You Can't Choose Your Family
by Wiztine
Summary: A series of scenes from important days in Ella's life, each chapter a different day with one or more scenes from that day. Day Three-Hundred-Seventy: Six impossible things before breakfast. Disney names for convenience's sake only.
1. Day One

You can't choose your family.

It was something her father had said once, after yet another to-be-politely-ignored letter from his brother, this one explaining an exciting new business venture expecting a hundredfold yield for the small price of a ten thousand pound initial investment.

Little Ella hadn't thought much of it at the time, but the words echoed through her head the day her father brought home his second wife. The new Lady Tremaine was a tall woman with sharp eyes, a Roman nose, and a regal bearing. Ella watched open-mouthed as she descended from the carriage with perfect grace, one hand lightly taking the proffered hand of Ella's father and the other subtly lifting the hem of her silk cordial skirt above the dust of the road. She would have continued staring in awe had Mrs. Wollens not given her a nudge from behind.

"Welcome to our home," said Ella, remembering to curtsy and offer a modest bouquet of wildflowers. Bright and cheery when she had picked them that morning, Ella now found herself worrying they'd lost their verve in the hot afternoon.

The great Lady paused, abandoning her inspection of the house and grounds to consider the small child before her. Ella found herself frozen to the spot, suddenly unable to summon her smile.

"Mmm," said the Lady, her lips tightening into a forced grimace. She looked Ella up and down, then nodded tersely before returning her attention to the house.

Released, Ella turned a searching gaze to her father. He winked at her, but quickly stopped her headlong rush into his arms with a stern look and a raised eyebrow. Cut short, but knowing that she wasn't in trouble, Ella put aside her questions and composed herself as her father turned back to the carriage door.

"Ladies," he said formally, once more offering his hand to the darkness within.

The first to emerge was Anastasia. She paused on the threshold, casting a long look around the yard before a push from behind hastened her descent. She yelped as she tumbled over the step, but Ella's father caught her with one strong arm mid-fall.

"Easy does it, pumpkin," he said, gently lowering her to the ground.

"I'm not a pumpkin!" she cried, wriggling out of his arms and running past Ella into the house after her mother.

Drizella, the pusher, came next. A few years older than her sister, Ella's first impression was all elbows and knees. Drizella clamored down with a pained expression on her face.

"Something smells funny," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Ah, that's just fresh country air. No London smog here," said Ella's father.

"I expect I'll be allergic," replied Drizella somberly, sweeping ahead into the house as well.

Ella's father laughed and followed her in.

Ella watched him go with an odd feeling in her little chest, the ignored flowers in her sweaty hand definitely wilting now.

"Well, shall you go in with them or with me?" asked Mrs. Wollens, still behind her.

"With you, please," said Ella, turning and slipping her small hand into Mrs. Wollens' large calloused one. Together they made their way around the side of the house, through the kitchen garden gate, and into the kitchen.

* * *

Ella entered the dining room that evening to find her usual place next to her father occupied by her new stepmother. Her confusion must have shown on her face, because when she turned to her father, he made a comically wide-eyed and hopelessly bewildered face and she laughed at the silliness, forgetting her discomfort. Put at ease, she climbed into the last remaining chair and Mrs. Wollens entered with the soup. It was quiet as Ella's father and stepmother were served, but when Mrs. Wollens moved on to Anastasia, her father broke the silence.

"It is so good to finally have you all together," he began. "At last, my family is complete."

"Indeed, this is an exciting new era for us, isn't it, girls?" said Ella's new stepmother. "We shall all have to pull together to get off to the right start. In the morning, I shall go down to the village and begin making inquiries. Anastasia, don't be a pick-a-ninny."

Ella looked across the table at Anastasia's place to see the beginnings of a small soupy pile of the celery she had helped Mrs. Wollens chop that afternoon on the edge of her plate.

"But I don't like them," Anastasia pouted.

"Tomorrow morning?" continued Ella's father. "So soon? I thought we could take it easy for a few weeks, perhaps take a family picnic down to the creek tomorrow. After all, life moves more slowly in the country, and you ladies are only just getting acquainted."

"Oh, it's a nice thought, dear, but while life in the country may be slow, life in the city never stops, and we shall fall behind if we don't strive to keep up. I really must begin making arrangements for Drizella and Anastasia to continue their lessons as soon as possible." As she spoke, Lady Tremaine spooned up the celery bits and deposited them back into Anastasia's bowl. Anastasia scowled. Drizella stuck her tongue out at her sister, Anastasia quickly reciprocated, and Ella giggled when she heard Mrs. Wollens snort softly in surprised disbelief as she leaned down to serve Ella's portion. Lady Tremaine's eyes ignored her daughters, instead snapping up to the housekeeper, her mouth opening sharply, but Ella's father spoke first, heedless of the drama before him.

"Well, maybe I'll take the girls then, while you're in town. I'm sure they're eager to explore their new home."

"Mother, I'd like to come see the village with you tomorrow, may I?" asked Drizella eagerly, distracted from tormenting her sister.

"Me too! If Drizella's going, I want to go too!" said Anastasia, tugging on her mother's sleeve.

"Stop that Anastasia," said Lady Tremaine, brushing her hand away. "You won't catch flies with vinegar."

"I don't want to catch flies!" protested Anastasia, "I want to go with you and Drizella."

"You girls really want to go into town with your mother? It's nothing as grand as London, I assure you," said Ella's father.

"I know, but I still want to see it. Besides, we saw creeks and fields our whole way here," Drizella lamented.

Ella's father glanced to his new wife, who considered a moment before assenting.

"Very well. If you girls want to come, you may, provided you behave yourselves. But mind you, our focus will be on finding a suitable tutor, not visiting the dressmaker."

"Yes, Mother," said Drizella happily.

"And you, Ella, will you be guiding your new mother and sisters through town, or shall you stay here and keep an old codger company tomorrow?" asked Ella's father, at last turning his attention to her with a smile.

"I'll stay here with you, Papa," said Ella, heart rising at the prospect of a day alone with her father. "Maybe we can go on a picnic?"

"Oh darling, you do bring up an excellent point," said Ella's stepmother before her father could reply. "Won't you come with us to town? As it is our first time, a guide will be invaluable. We wouldn't want to find ourselves lost our first day here, and I'm sure you know all the right people we'll need to meet."

Ella's heart sank as her father smiled apologetically at her before answering her new stepmother.

"Of course, I'd be happy to show you around tomorrow. Ella, I promise you we'll have that picnic, just not tomorrow, alright?"

Ella nodded into her plate, and passed the rest of the meal in silence.

* * *

It was much later than usual by the time her father came to say good night, but he found Ella wide awake, hugging her favorite doll close to her chest and gazing out vacantly into the moonlight. She looked up as he entered.

"Hey Colonel," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Hi Papa," she said, nestling herself under his arm.

"How're the troops doing?" he asked.

"I'm okay."

"Good." He kissed the top of her head. "What do you think of your new mother and sisters?"

Ella's brow furrowed in thought before she answered.

"She didn't take my bouquet."

"Ah. Maybe she didn't see it. She's had a lot on her mind with the move."

"I guess. Mrs. Wollens put it in a jar on the kitchen sill for me."

"I'll be sure to go and admire it properly tomorrow then. Speaking of which, since I most shamefully must postpone our picnic, will you honor us with your company in town tomorrow? It'll be our first full family outing!"

Ella made a face.

"But there's nothing to do in town!"

Her father laughed.

"Sometimes it's not about what you're doing, it's about who you're doing it with. Besides, if you come with us you won't be underfoot of Mrs. Wollens and she might just have time to prepare a special treat for our return." He tried to wiggle his eyebrows enticingly, making Ella laugh.

"Okay, I'll come. But raspberry pie, not lemon meringue this time, okay?"

"Deal," said her father solemnly, extending a hand. Ella took it with equal solemnity and they shook on it.

"All right then. Now that's settled, into bed with you. We've got a big day tomorrow, and it's much too late for little girls to still be awake."

Ella untangled herself from her father's arms and crawled to pull back the covers at the head of the bed.

"Papa?"

"Yes darling?"

"Do you think Drizella and Anastasia like me?"

"I'm sure they will, darling, once you girls get to know each other. They'd be fools not to."

Ella snuggled deeper into the blankets, stifling a yawn as her father placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Papa?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're back."

"Me too, darling. Me too. Good night now. Sweet dreams."

"Love you, Papa."

"Love you too, darling. Love you always."

His last sight as he closed the door behind him was of his daughter's peaceful slumbering smile.


	2. Day Twelve

You had to start with one strong tower first, Ella knew, because strength was more important than height. If the first tower was sturdy, it set the standard for the second and third, and once you had three towers, they could be connected with walls. She reasoned that the walls were less important, because in the event of attack, it was the walls that would first be breached, but even once the walls were breached, a tower could still be held. In a tower with a well and a decently stocked storeroom, she was optimistic that the castle occupants could hold their own in decent, though diminished, accommodations for quite some time.

That is, if her occupants could restrain themselves from eating their way through the foundations in the meantime.

She sighed and dropped a handful of water from her bucket into a spare patch of dirt, absentmindedly churning it to mud. As she stirred, the earthworm escaping from the second tower disappeared behind a tomato plant. Ella smoothed the mud over the hole left behind and peering into the opening at the top of the tower, glad to see the two remaining worms still in place.

"I'll make you a moat next," she said to herself, "then you'll really be safe."

"Then who will be safe?" asked a voice behind her.

"Papa!" she cried, jumping up from the garden. He swept her up off her feet, and spun her in a circle before setting her back down.

"What's going on here, Colonel?" he asked, bending down to examine her handiwork.

"It's a castle for the earthworms! See them in the towers? I'm going to build a moat next!"

"So it is, so it is. Those are some strong towers you've made. But where are the earthworms?"

"They're in the towers!" She peered around his shoulder over the castle. "Oh no, they've escaped again! They keep eating their way out."

"Ah well, they'll do that on you. They're at home anywhere in the garden; walls of earth have as hard a time holding them as walls of gingerbread would have holding you."

Ella laughed. "I'd like to live in a gingerbread house when I grow up." Then she noticed he was wearing his good hat and waistcoat.

"Oh Papa, I've got mud on your coat. Where are you going?"

"Nevermind the mud, it'll dry and crust off easily enough. I'm meeting a friend in town for tea. Speaking of which, you should be cleaning up for tea too. Mrs. Wollens was just pulling fresh crumpets from the oven when I came through." He winked conspiratorially, but was then stopped short by a thought. "Ella, why are you out here? Shouldn't you be inside with your sisters doing your lessons?"

"I was, Anastasia and I were doing sums, and I finished, and I was helping Anastasia with hers, but Drizella was doing her French dictation for Madame and said our whispering was too distracting, so Madame told me I could be done for today, and I went down to see what Mrs. Wollens was doing, and she told me I could help weed the vegetable garden, so I came out here."

"Where you have been building a castle of epic fortitude for the lowly downtrodden. A more productive day than mine, it seems."

Ella laughed and took his hand. "You can help me make a better castle tomorrow, if you like, to make your day more productive."

Her father grinned. "Perhaps, we'll have to see. In the meantime, I may ask your stepmother to have a word with Madame, surely she has something you can be doing if you finish your sums so early in the future."

"Oh Papa, that's okay. I don't mind leaving lessons early."

He laughed. "Of course you don't. Neither did I when I was your age. But you only have so many years in which to learn as much as you can. Now that you have a proper tutor, you'll begin growing out of a wild little girl and into a fine young lady, like your stepmother."

Ella made a face. "I don't want to grow up to be like Stepmother, she moves too slowly and never smiles."

"Oh, you don't have to give up smiling to become a lady, you just haven't seen her smile yet. Different things tickle different people. And someday you'll look at your stepmother and be glad that she was here to show you what it means to be a fine respectable lady. Mothers are important that way." Nodding in agreement with himself, he pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. "Oh dear, I'm going to be late. Run along and wash up for tea, Colonel, I'll see you at supper."

Ella moved in to hug him again. "See you at supper, Papa." She giggled as she pulled away and noticed a fresh smear of mud across his sleeve. "Watch your sleeves!" she called after his retreating figure, laughing at his dismayed expression upon examining his sleeve.

* * *

Ella entered the drawing room for tea behind Mrs. Wollens, who bore the tea tray. As soon as she set it down, Drizella and Anastasia appeared and began rooting for the plumpest crumpets. Meanwhile, Ella's stepmother took one look at Ella and then drew back in disgust.

"Ella, if you cannot make yourself presentable for tea, please withdraw at once."

"What?" asked Ella, confused.

"I won't say it again. Living in the country is no excuse for us to abandon our sense of propriety. After all, cleanliness is next to godliness."

"But I am clean, you can ask Mrs. Wollens!" Mrs. Wollens had made sure of it after she came in from the gardens, inspecting Ella's face and hands herself after Ella washed up.

"She is clean, madam, I supervised her washing up myself," injected Mrs. Wollens.

"Mrs. Wollens, if I want your opinion I shall ask for it myself, is that clear?" said Ella's stepmother sharply, taking a step towards Mrs. Wollens as she spoke.

"Yes, madam," said Mrs. Wollens, bobbing a quick curtsy even while adding, "but she is perfectly clean."

"Mrs. Wollens, that will be all."

With another curtsy and a frowning glance between Ella and her stepmother, Mrs. Wollens left the room. Ella stood uncertainly, wondering whether she ought to go join Anastasia on the chaise longue or wait for her stepmother's permission, wary of disapproval.

"I am clean," she said at last.

"Ella," said her stepmother, turning back to her, "I know you have been lacking a mother's care for some time now, so I will overlook your impertinence today, but know this: a young lady never contradicts her elders, and a young lady never, ever suggests that the staff know better than their betters. I would never tolerate such impertinence from my own daughters, and this shall be the last time I tolerate it from you, understood?"

"Yes," said Ella timidly, not understanding, "but I am clean."

"Impertinent child! Are you mocking me? Your pinafore is filthy, and shall not be tolerated in my drawing room."

"Oh!" exclaimed Ella in relief, comprehension dawning. "I was out in the garden, you see, building a castle for the worms, that's where the mud came from. Papa says there's nothing wrong with good clean dirt, so-"

Her stepmother cut her off mid-sentence.

"Stop talking, Ella. I don't know where to begin. Building a castle for worms? I never heard such nonsense. As for your father, he is a man, and as such knows nothing of raising a respectable young lady. We must hold ourselves to a higher standard. Now, go and change your pinafore at once. When you have done so, you may take your tea with Mrs. Wollens in the kitchen. Your education seems to be stunted much further than I first thought, but I have no more energy to deal with it today. Think on what I have told you, and please come to tea presentably tomorrow."

Ella stood frozen after her stepmother finished speaking, her mind swirling with her stepmother's words.

"Ella!"

"What?" said Ella, jarred out of her thoughts.

"Was I not clear? Go and change. See Mrs. Wollens for your tea."

"Yes, Stepmother," said Ella, reflexively dipping a quick curtsy and making her escape. On the way out, she heard Drizella speak.

"She's not very bright, is she, Mother?"

"It seems not, darling. But you roll the dice and play the hand you are dealt. After all, you can't choose your family."

"You chose Father," pressed Drizella.

Her mother sighed.

"Yes, I did. I did choose him, but I did not choose his daughter. You see, very often in life you must make decisions without all the facts. There is always risk involved, but you must never let fear of risk keep you from playing the game. One does one's best with what one has to work with. Remember that."

"Yes, Mother," said Drizella.

In the hall beyond, Ella also vowed to remember her stepmother's words, determined to learn and live up to her new stepmother's standards and prove herself someday as a respectable young lady.

* * *

Ella crept slowly down the dark hall, wishing she'd thought to light a candle. It was late, hours after her father had come to say good night, but still Ella couldn't sleep. She knew that if she could make it to the kitchen without getting sent back to bed, and if Mrs. Wollens was still awake, the housekeeper would warm her some sweet milk, and so she muffled her cry when she walked into Anastasia's large Victorian dollhouse – _what was that doing out in the hall?_ – and pressed on, biting her lip against the pain.

Ella didn't like the house when it was dark. Not that she was afraid of the dark, because Ella didn't believe in monsters or bogeymen; it was just that the dark made everything lonelier somehow.

She wasn't alone in the house tonight though. A loud and sudden snore erupted from her stepsisters' room as Ella passed, making her jump and freeze. A few seconds passed, then it came again, longer and drawn out, and Ella relaxed, continuing on her way.

When she reached her father's room, she was surprised to see light still shining from under the door. As she got closer, she heard voices.

"But that's exactly what I'm saying! She needs someone to show her, she needs womanly guidance; she needs a mother."

"Yes, but dear, she's practically a barbarian! You should have seen her come in to tea this afternoon; she was filthy! And the way she spoke to me! I don't know how you let things get this bad with her, I really don't."

Ella stomach flip-flopped as she realized the voices were talking about her.

"Oh come now, let's not exaggerate, I saw her in the garden this afternoon, she was just playing, as all children do. Give her time, be patient, she'll soon learn. She's got a good head on her shoulders, and she wants so badly to please you."

"No good Christian child bedecks themselves in mud for tea the way a heathen paints himself for the warpath."

"Dearest –"

"No, I will not be put off. Hear me out. The mud aside, Ella is your daughter, and so she is my stepdaughter. I accept this, and I will do my best to be her stepmother and bring her up in a matter fit for proper society, but you must understand firstly that I am not a miracle worker, and secondly that I also have the care and keeping of my own daughters weighing upon my shoulders."

"Of course, dearest. I only ask that you be patient with her. She hasn't had a mother's touch since she was very small, but Ella, my little Colonel, she's got a heart the size of the ocean. She hasn't the slightest sliver of malice in her, and she'll be the finest young lady in all the land someday, if only she has someone to show her the way."

Ella's bosom swelled at her father's words, and she felt a smile stray across her face. If her father thought so, then of course she would become the finest young lady in all the land, if only to prove him right. Her stepmother, however, was unimpressed.

"We'll see. I know that you and Ella are very close; it's been just the two of you for so long. But you and I, we won't be around forever, and we must ensure our children are equipped to survive in the world without us, and in the world beyond, that takes much more than rainbows and sunshine."

"For young men, of course, but for young ladies –" began Ella's father.

"No, I speak especially for young ladies. Women do not make the public scenes that men do, but they fight just as fiercely, and for far longer. A woman must be able to anticipate of the consequences of everything she does, from the clothes she wears, to the company she keeps, to the words she says, and even the thoughts she thinks, because other women will notice all these things, and will never forget any of them. Understanding this, and knowing how to wield it, is the key to a woman's success in the world. Perception is foremost, not intention."

Her father sighed, and Ella wondered what he would say to that, but his reply was interrupted by loud shouts from down the hall.

"Shut up, Drizella!"

"What? I was asleep! You shut up, you banshee!"

"I'm not a banshee! You're a foghorn! Sleep quieter!"

"I'm asleep, stupid, what am I supposed to do about it? Mother!"

Ella scrambled back into the shadows just as her stepmother burst through the door.

"Girls! Cease this racket immediately!"

Ella's father appeared in the doorway after her, but didn't follow his wife down the hall. After a moment of staring into space, his eyes adjusted to the dark and he raised an eyebrow in Ella's direction.

"Now, I know that's a ghost, because if it was a little girl, I'd have to march her right back to bed."

"Yes, Papa. I only wanted some milk."

He sighed. "Go on then. And if Mrs. Wollens or your stepmother ask, I didn't see you."

"Yes, Papa. Papa?"

"Yes, Colonel?"

Ella watched his face, trying to find the words to the questions she felt but couldn't name. Her father waited patiently, then slid down to sit on the floor and reached out to draw her onto his lap. Ella wrapped her arms inside his dressing gown around his middle and buried her face in his shirt.

"Stepmother says you don't know how to teach me to be a proper young lady."

He sighed.

"She's right. I don't. No one ever taught me, you see?"

Ella giggled into his chest.

"But Ella, I've got a secret to tell you about that."

"What?" she asked, her voice muffled.

"Part of being a proper young lady is about being quiet at table, and keeping a clean pinafore, and learning to powder your nose, but, and here's the secret, there's another part of it, a much bigger part of it, an infinitely more important part of it, that a lot of people forget to mention, and that's being a good person – being kind and considerate, putting others before yourself, and putting God above all. It's about helping those you can and not taking advantage of people less fortunate than you, about being equally gracious in victory and defeat, about giving real forgiveness and love from the bottom of your heart, even when it doesn't make sense to. All the most truly beautiful ladies know this, young and old. It's something you have to live by and practice everyday, and it's hard and sometimes you'll slip up, but that's okay as long as you pick yourself up and keep at it."

"How do you know?" asked Ella sleepily. "No one ever taught you."

"No one ever taught me, but your mother, Ella, she showed me, every day that I knew her she showed me. And you remind me of her in so many ways, but this is by far the most important one. Don't you ever forget that."

"Yes, Papa," murmured Ella, all plans for warm milk abandoned.

"All right. Let's get you to bed now." And her father stood, Ella snug and secure in his arms as he carried her down the hall to her room.


	3. Day Sixty-seven

It was big for a dog, but it was also soft and warm. And slobbery, thought Ella, as the long, wet tongue licked her face. She laughed with delight and wiped her face in the deep fur behind its ears.

Behind her, Anastasia shrieked in disgust.

"Ew! He's giving you dog cooties!"

"He likes me," said Ella. "And there's no such thing as dog cooties."

"That's disgusting," said Drizella. "That thing is filthy. You're going to get in trouble again."

"And you'll get ticks and heartworm too," added Anastasia.

"I wonder where he came from," said Ella. "How did he get out here all alone?"

"You're going to be out here all alone if you don't leave him alone right now," said Drizella. "Mother would not approve."

Ella knew she was right, but stayed where she was. The dog flopped onto its back and Ella started rubbing its stomach.

"He's used to people, and he's gentle as anything. But you're right, Drizella, his fur is dirty and you can see his ribs. I bet he's hungry. Are you hungry, boy?"

The dog bayed mournfully.

"See? He's hungry. Were there any sandwiches left after lunch?"

"I ate the last sandwich," said Anastasia proudly.

"What about the melon?" pressed Ella.

"That's it," said Drizella. "Come on, Anastasia, we're going back. Ella can get herself in trouble, but she won't drag us down with her." Drizella turned and started walking back, Anastasia running to keep up.

"Oh, don't go, Drizella," called Ella. "Just a few more minutes!"

Drizella walked faster.

Ella sighed.

"They never listen to me anyway," she told the dog. "Drizella will tell on me when she gets back, so I need to go now, but if you come along, I'll try to get you something. Even if there aren't any more sandwiches, there's got to be something left from lunch."

The dog watched at her unblinkingly, and when she stood up, so did he. She took a few tentative steps away, and he followed, staying close to her side.

"All right then, that's settled. To lunch we go!"

* * *

"And she was touching it all over, and letting it lick her face! A wild dog! It probably has cooties."

Ella heard Anastasia's shrill voice as she approached from the far side of the hill, the dog still at her side.

"Girls, you did the right thing coming straight back," said Ella's stepmother's voice.

"I think you mean rabies, Anastasia," said Ella's father. "That's the infectious danger of approaching wild animals. But Ella knows rabies, she wouldn't go near a rabid creature."

"She would if she thought it looked lonely," said Drizella. "She gets distracted by everything. It's so tiresome."

Ella broke into a run as she rounded the top of the hill.

"Papa!" she cried. "Is there anything left from lunch?"

"Ho, Colonel! Now what have we here?" her father asked, kneeling down to examine the dog.

"He's hungry, Papa, and I promised him some lunch if there was any left."

"Yes, I see. Looks like it may have been a while since his last meal. Check in the basket, I think there's some watermelon left."

Ella started toward the large picnic basket, but was stopped by her stepmother.

"Hold on, Ella. Dear, you're not really going to let her give that mutt our lunch. It's a wild animal, for heaven's sake."

"He's hungry," replied Ella's father. "We've all eaten, the melon's only growing warm anyway."

"But what if we want more later? And we don't want that thing to come to think of us as a food source. We are not its keepers. It should have been left where it was found, I don't know what Ella was thinking bringing it back here."

"He's hungry-" Ella began.

"And filthy and wild and flea-ridden. We do not take strays as souvenirs."

"I didn't say I wanted to keep him," said Ella.

"If we feed him, he'll think we do, and then it will be impossible to get rid of him," said her stepmother firmly. "Now, it's getting late, we should be getting home. No arguing, please."

So Ella kept her rising protests to herself, even as she watched her father's pained expression as he turned away from the dog apologetically. She knew her stepmother hated to be contradicted, and she knew her father was trying very hard to please his new wife as she adjusted to life in the country. We must all make sacrifices, he had said when Mrs. Wollens complained of losing her day off to preparing a dinner party for Ella's stepmother at short notice, and again when Ella nagged him about spending more time on outings together. She had begged for this picnic for nearly two months, and was disappointed that her stepmother was ending it so soon, but she was determined not to complain.

She did, however, let a few large pieces of melon slip into the tall grass as she packed up the picnic basket. As they left, she glanced back long enough to confirm that the dog had found them and was happily gnawing away at the rinds.

* * *

"Ella! What do you think you're doing?"

Ella's head snapped up from her book, surprised and confused, to find her stepmother's narrowed eyes fixed on her from across the parlor. In the corner, Anastasia and Drizella looked up from their table game with interest.

"What do you mean? I'm reading," said Ella.

"You've been scratching," declared her stepmother, rising and crossing the room. She lifted one of Ella's arms and pushed back her sleeve to the elbow. She dropped it almost immediately, drawing back quickly.

"Flea bites!" she exclaimed. "Heavens, child, you've given yourself fleas! That ridiculous picnic!"

"That ridiculous dog, more like," said Drizella. "I told her this would happen."

"I said it first!" said Anastasia. "She didn't believe me, but I told her dog cooties were real! You were wrong, Ella, and I was right!"

"Fleas aren't cooties, stupid, they're fleas! I told her specifically—"

"Hush girls, young ladies do not squabble over fleas," interrupted Ella's stepmother. "Ella, get up at once, you mustn't infest anything more than you have already. Those clothes will have to be burned, and heaven knows what we'll do about the furniture. And the carriage! Whatever shall be done about the carriage?"

"Please," said Ella, "It's not that big of a deal, they're easy to—"

"Not that big of a deal? Ella, do kindly hold your tongue, as it is your foolishness that has brought fleas into this home in the first place. You've done quite enough for one day."

"But you just need to—"

"Silence!"

Time froze and Ella's eyes widened in sudden fear as her stepmother towered over her with one hand raised high. Still in the corner, Drizella and Anastasia watched the scene with bated breath.

Then the spell was broken by a knock at the door.

"Madam?" Mrs. Wollens stepped into the room uncertainly.

Ella's stepmother lowered her hand.

"Yes, what is it?" she asked tightly.

"Dinner is ready, Madam," said Mrs. Wollens.

"Thank you." Ella's stepmother turned to Mrs. Wollens, thrusting Ella towards the housekeeper roughly. "This one has fleas. Get rid of them, by whatever means necessary. Shave her head if need be."

"Oh I hardly think—"

"You do not need to think, I am telling you. And thoroughly disinfect everything she has touched since returning home. This room, the carriage, everything. And I want it done tonight, this cannot wait."

"Very well, Madam," said Mrs. Wollens. "Shall I take it dinner is to be delayed?"

"Why ever would that be? You say it is ready, so are we. We'll go in at once."

"But Ella—"

"Ella has more pressing concerns at the moment. And so do you. But that has nothing to do with our dinner. Now, not a minute to waste, off you go."

Ella tried to read the expression on Mrs. Wollens' face, but in the end the housekeeper merely bobbed a curtsy and led Ella out of the room.

"Off we go," she muttered under her breath.

* * *

"Ow! You're pulling," said Ella as Mrs. Wollens washed Ella's hair, all the while searching for stray fleas in it. So far her search had been in vain. Ella sat in the largest washbasin, now serving as a makeshift tub, in the middle of the kitchen.

"Sorry, love," said Mrs. Wollens. "I'm nearly done."

"You're not going to shave it, are you?" asked Ella.

"Of course not. Hot water's all it takes. Besides, your father would never forgive me if I did. It's why he first started calling you kernel when you were a mite, you know, that fine yellow corn silk hair of yours. And because you were such a tiny little thing in the beginning."

"I know," said Ella. She'd heard the story many times. "And then I got older and he found me trying to organize an army of ants to march in rows, like in the song, and it's been Colonel ever since."

"Yes indeed. Now, are you nearly done on your end? Because I'm just about finished here."

"Yes, I'm done."

"All right then, out you come."

Ella climbed out and quickly dried off, slipping into a clean nightgown. Mrs. Wollens began dragging the washbasin outside to dump in the garden. When she tried to open the door though, they heard a yelp from the other side.

Ella held her breath. Could it be?

"Oh, that had better not be what I think it is," said Mrs. Wollens. "We have enough to be getting on with tonight without any more surprises."

Ella reached around her and opened the top portion of the door.

"It's him!" she cried. "It's the dog from the field!"

"Now Ella," began Mrs. Wollens, "Don't be getting any ideas. Hasn't this creature caused enough trouble in this house today?"

But Ella had already opened the bottom of the door and was reacquainting herself with her new friend.

"Ella, you just got clean!" protested Mrs. Wollens.

"He must have followed us home!" said Ella happily. "I'm surprised I didn't see him, I was watching for him, hoping he might."

"Don't let your stepmother hear you saying that," said Mrs. Wollens. "That's a bloodhound though, he could follow you home a week after meeting you, his nose will be that good."

"Clever boy," said Ella, scratching behind his ears. Though she'd never admit it, Mrs. Wollens was sure the dog grinned a huge goofy doggy grin at Ella's praise.

"He is a friendly fellow, isn't he," conceded Mrs. Wollens.

"He is," agreed Ella. "I'm sure he comes from good people, it just seems he's been on his own for a while now."

"That's a shame, for such an amiable pup. And a valuable one too, if he's been trained at all for the hunt."

Ella looked at her sideways.

"Mrs. Wollens," she said carefully.

"Oh no," said Mrs. Wollens quickly. "Your stepmother would never allow it."

"I haven't asked anything yet," protested Ella.

"I'm answering you all the same. You're not going to be able to keep this dog. Not after it's given you fleas. Remember that?"

"Who said anything about keeping him? Let's just give him a bath, so he doesn't give the next person fleas. And some dinner. Please? It's the Christian thing to do."

Mrs. Wollens gave Ella a long look, sighing.

"All right," she said. "But this is your responsibility, understand? I need to take care of your flea clothes, and to do something about the parlor and the carriage to convince your stepmother they're safe for human habitation. And you'll do the bath out here in the garden, I'll not have you flooding my kitchen. As a matter of fact, the dog doesn't come inside the house at all, understand?"

"Oh thank you, Mrs. Wollens," cried Ella, rising and hugging her tightly.

"And one more thing," continued Mrs. Wollens. "You need to bathe again too, after the dog has had its turn. Just to be sure. Come and see me when you're done and I'll check your hair again to be sure."

"Yes Mrs. Wollens."

"And Ella? Try to keep it down out here. There's no need for anyone else to find out he's here tonight. That can wait till the morning."

Ella giggled. "Yes Mrs. Wollens. Stepmother won't hear us; we'll be quiet. Thank you."

Ella was true to her word. Mrs. Wollens didn't hear a peep from outside as she made a show of inspecting and wiping down the parlor room furniture. On her way out to the carriage house, she saw Ella and the dog sitting together on the kitchen step, sharing a plate of something in the dark.

They were still there when she returned to house, so she joined them, bringing a stool and a candle to check Ella's hair.

"How's he doing?" she asked.

"He's good," said Ella. "He ate most of the chicken I found, and some carrots too."

"And what about you?" asked Mrs. Wollens. "Did he leave enough for your dinner?"

"I'm good too," said Ella. "I ate."

"Good," said Mrs. Wollens.

"I want him to stay," said Ella suddenly. "I know Stepmother won't want him to, but I can't help it, I want him to stay. If he wants to, that is."

"I know," said Mrs. Wollens. "You could do with an ally, now with those stepsisters of yours. I don't think you'll need to worry about him wanting to stay here, it looks like you two have really hit it off. Your stepmother on the other hand, that'll be an uphill battle."

"I know," said Ella. "I've discovered what his name is though."

"Oh?" said Mrs. Wollens. "What's his name?"

"Bruno. Bruno the bloodhound."


	4. Day One-Hundred-Thirty-Seven

**A/N: Special thanks to BooksAreMedicine for one hundred percent of the reviews so far on this story! They make my day :)**

"A palace ball, a palace ball, we're going to a palace ball!"

"Not just a palace ball, dummy, we're going to the Christmas Jubilee!"

"But we're going to the palace! For a ball! We're going to a palace ball!"

From her room at the end of the hall, Ella could hear Anastasia and Drizella quite clearly. Not that the content of their conversation came as any surprise – the two had talked of nothing else for weeks, ever since the invitations had arrived.

"They're certainly excited about tonight," remarked Mrs. Wollens dryly, working a comb through Ella's hair. "I hope they won't be disappointed."

"They won't be," said Ella confidently. "It's going to be wonderful, it always is. I wish you could see it, Mrs. Wollens. Everything at the palace sparkles for the Jubilee, and the dinner is always delicious, and last year Roger Fenworthy and I watched some of the grown-ups' ballroom from the balcony, and it's simply the most splendid sight on earth. Everyone dressed up, everyone happy for Christmas, it's such fun!"

"Yes, you've told me about it every year," said Mrs. Wollens with a smile.

"Because every year it's worth telling about! I'm glad Drizella and Anastasia get to come this year, it's such a shame they haven't before."

"Well, invitations go to titles, and they haven't been in a titled family until this year."

"Still, it's a shame. Everyone should be able to go and experience it at least once."

"Ah, if wishes were fishes we'd all swim in riches. It's not a fair world. But you know you're a very lucky little girl, don't you?"

"Yes Mrs. Wollens, and I am grateful for what I have, you and Papa, and Stepmother and the girls too, truly I am. But if I were in charge, I'd make it a fair world."

Mrs. Wollens laughed.

"You do that, Ella, and you'll be the most beloved leader this earth has ever seen."

"But really, why doesn't the king just make life fair for everyone? It seems the obvious thing to do."

"I'm sure it's not as easy as it sounds. And people are finicky creatures, they can lose sight of what's obvious pretty quickly."

"Not me," declared Ella. "I'm never going to forget what's right and good and fair. And besides, you haven't."

Mrs. Wollens laughed again.

"It's easier to keep your bearings when your life is simple. Mine's about as simple as they come, and I give thanks for that."

"As you should, Mrs. Wollens, as you should."

Both Ella and Mrs. Wollens jumped at the voice in the doorway. Ella's stepmother stood on the threshold with her arms crossed.

"Madam," said Mrs. Wollens, curtseying quickly.

"Mrs. Wollens, Drizella and Anastasia require your assistance getting dressed, and when you have finished getting them ready, please come to my room. This is an important day, we've no time to dawdle."

"Yes, Madam, as soon as I've finished Ella's hair here."

"It looks fine to me. On your way now, please, not a moment to waste."

"It won't take but a minute," protested Mrs. Wollens.

"It's okay, I can finish it from here," said Ella. "Thanks for helping me."

"All right then, of course, dear. You're very welcome."

Mrs. Wollens left, and Ella's stepmother swept out after her, leaving Ella to ponder power and justice on her own.

* * *

Ella felt her breath catch in her throat as she walked into the entrance hall. Every year the decorations were the same, and every year she found herself struck with awe and delight. A sixty-foot Christmas tree adorned with colorful silk garlands and thousands of tiny candles drew her eyes up to a glimmering angel on top, piously watching over the gathering guests below. On either side of the entrance hall, twin open staircases bedecked in deep green holly and sheer golden ribbons wound their way up to the second and third stories, where Ella knew the children would pass the evening together.

"Mademoiselles, may I take your cloaks?" asked a footman, bending down slightly to be on eye level with Ella and her stepsisters.

"Oh, this is so fancy!" exclaimed Drizella. "I can't believe we're actually in the actual palace!"

"He called me mademoiselle!" trilled Anastasia happily. "I'm a mademoiselle!"

"Yes please, thank you sir," said Ella, slipping off her cloak and handing it over to join her stepsisters'.

"My pleasure, miss," said the footman with a wink to Ella, before disappearing into the crowd. As soon as he was out of sight, Ella felt her ear tweaked from behind.

"Ella's got a beau!" sang Drizella. "Ella likes the footman!"

"Stop it Drizella, he was just being nice," protested Ella.

"He winked at you!" said Anastasia. "That means he likes you too! Ella and the footman! Ella and the footman!"

Fortunately for Ella, her father and stepmother chose that moment to reappear.

"You girls all set?" asked her father jovially.

"Yes, papa," they replied.

"Ella, you remember where to go, don't you?"

"Yes, papa. We go up the stairs to the third floor, then down the hall to the right. But we can hardly miss it, everyone is on their way up now." Indeed, a thin line of children was already making its way up the stairs.

"Good, good. Keep an eye on your sisters, won't you, Colonel? Introduce them to some handsome devils, eh?"

Ella giggled. "Yes, papa. The handsomest devils in all the land."

"Oh please," interrupted Ella's stepmother. "Their first Christmas ball is no joking matter."

"Of course not," agreed Ella's father. "I only—"

"Girls," continued her stepmother, "Behave yourselves tonight. Remember everything I've told you, and be the enchanting young ladies I know you are."

"Yes, mama," said Ella's stepsisters.

And with one final squeeze to Ella's hand, Ella's father and stepmother turned away towards the Great Hall.

"I don't know if I trust you to find me my handsome devil," said Drizella. "After all, it may do for you, but _I_ can't end up with some footman, now can I?"

Anastasia started laughing, but though she felt her ears turning pink, Ella chose to ignore the remark, in the name of Christmas peace.

"Come on," she said instead, leading the way to the foot of the nearest side of the winding staircase.

* * *

"Not that way, come with us!"

Ella felt a hand grab her elbow as she entered the make shift theater.

"Roger!" she exclaimed happily, seeing who had pulled her aside into the back row of chairs. "I looked for you earlier, where have you been?"

"Oh you know, missing cufflinks, stained trousers, a bloody nose, the usual late start for the Fenworthy clan. We got here halfway through the soup, so they sat us all together by the door. We haven't even made bob to Prince Christopher yet. Not sure we'll bother, honestly, at this point."

"Roger, you must!" scolded Ella. "What would your father say?"

"Not half of what you will now, I bet," said Roger, grinning.

"I'll go with you after the panto, how about that? And in the meantime you can catch me up on the Fenworthy latest. How are Clarice and the others? And the new baby, what was her name? Analeisa?"

"Annabella, going by Lulu now," said Roger. "Not so much of a baby anymore really, she started walking a few weeks ago."

"Oh gosh, really? I think the last time I saw you all was her baptism, and she couldn't stay awake through the ceremony then."

"Sounds about right. We missed having you come stay this summer, you know."

"I wish I could have, I always have such a wonderful time, but the wedding was right at the beginning of summer, and then Papa felt that we should let my stepmother and stepsisters settle in properly for a few months."

"That's right, your father remarried! How do you like having real siblings of your own now?"

Ella paused before answering.

"I suppose I'm still getting used to it. They're Drizella and Anastasia, Drizella's a year older than me, and Anastasia's a year younger. It doesn't really feel like the way being an honorary summer Fenworthy did, but I guess we're still getting to know each other."

"Are they here tonight?"

"Yes, they're up in the second row. Over there, near Christopher," she directed as Roger stood up to see over the assembling crowd. "Drizella's in the light green dress with the big bow, black hair, and Anastasia's in the magenta dress, red hair. They were so excited to come, they've been talking about it for weeks."

"Golly, that is a big bow," said Roger, sitting back down.

The lights began to dim and a man walked onto the stage.

"Boys and girls, may I have your attention please? Our pantomime is about to begin."

As he began introducing the story, Roger leaned over to whisper in Ella's ear.

"Let me know when you're ready, and we'll slip out to the balcony again."

"Deal," Ella whispered back.

* * *

"It's not that it wasn't lovely," said Ella as the two lay on their stomachs on the balcony overlooking the Grand Ballroom an hour later. "It's just that it kept going and going with no signs of stopping."

"I liked the first bit," said Roger, "when the soldier came to life and started fighting the mouse. But then when they got on the sleigh ride, and made stop after stop, it felt more like a cultures of the world study than a plot."

"Oh well, we're out now. Have you found your parents down there yet? What color is your mother wearing?"

"Dark green, I think, and so is my father, but his jacket's got silver trim. My mother usually likes to be near the orchestra, but I don't see her there now."

"I think I see them with Papa, at the far wall. That's stepmother with them, in the gold dress."

"Bold choice for her first Jubilee."

Ella laughed.

"What do you know of ballgown fashions?"

"A ballroom's just like going on a hunt," protested Roger. "You calculate the degree to which you want to be noticed. And gold stands out, it says 'Here I am, notice me and don't forget what you see'."

"And what does my dress tonight say?" asked Ella doubtfully.

Roger turned over, sitting up to consider.

"Stand up and let me get a proper look then."

Ella complied, stepping back from the railing and giving a quick twirl.

"Well?"

"Ah yes, let's see now. The wrinkled skirt tells me that you've been rolling around on the floor, too impatient to sit through the Christmas panto, most unbefitting behavior for a young lady. And the pastry crumbles in the lacework tell me you've been a careless eater as well, though that's not entirely bad, as it often indicates an engaging conversationalist."

"Come off it, you're making that up. That's nothing to do with the dress choice, and besides, I don't have any pastry in the lace, I didn't even try the pastry tonight."

"Sure you do, just there—" Roger started to point, but then both were distracted by a commotion in the ballroom below.

All attention below had turned to the royal dais, where the king and queen presided. But now the queen was slumped on the floor and the king was on his feet shouting to the guards, some of which were rushing to the queen's side and others of which were trying to hold back the crowd. Someone shouted for a physician, and one quickly appeared, and knelt by the queen's side, opening a bag of instruments.

"I hope she's alright," said Ella worriedly.

"How did it happen?" wondered Roger. "She looked fine a minute ago."

It was clear that the queen wasn't fine now. After several minutes without a response to any of his administrations, the physician rose slowly and whispered in the king's ear. As he spoke, the king's face turned redder and redder. When the physician stepped back, Ella saw the king take several deep breaths before speaking to the suddenly silent crowd.

"The Jubilee is over," he said. "Goodnight."

And the king turned away from the crowd, and away from his wife on the dais, and left the room.

Excited chatter immediately broke out in the crowd, until another man took the stage and shouted for silence.

"That's the Lord Chancellor," whispered Roger to Ella.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "It is with great regret that we must adjourn the Jubilee. We wish you all safe journeys home. Would the cabinet please follow me?"

He left the room, and one by one around a dozen men separated from the crowd to follow him. The guards had formed a wall of bodies surrounding the queen, but Ella could see her still form perfectly well from the balcony above.

"Oh Roger, this is dreadful."

"We should be getting back," he said numbly. "They'll be ending the panto and calling for us."

Ella nodded, and they made their way back to the theater to find the performance stopped and the children milling around aimlessly, bored and confused at the abrupt halt.

"Too late to pay respects to Prince Christopher now," murmured Roger. Indeed, the young prince was nowhere to be seen.

"He's got the most awful night ahead of him," said Ella sadly. "I'd better find Drizella and Anastasia. And I'm sure Clarice is looking for you."

"You're probably right. Well, merry Christmas," he said with a grimace.

"Merry Christmas," she replied, equally cheerless.

* * *

"I don't understand," said Ella. "Where's Papa?"

"He's been asked to stay behind for a bit," replied her stepmother curtly, handing Ella her cloak. "We're to return home without him, and he'll follow when he can."

"But I just want to say goodbye and wish him a merry Christmas!" protested Ella. "Where is he?"

"He'll be along when he can. Put on your cloak, we're leaving."

"Can't I just see him? I'll be quick, I promise."

"Ella!" snapped her stepmother. "We are leaving! Stop making a scene."

"I'm not making a scene! I just want to know where he is!" Ella felt panic bubbling from deep within. Something had happened to the queen, she needed Papa to tell her everything was all right.

Her stepmother bent down and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly, and spoke quickly in a low, tight voice.

"Your father needs to stay here. You don't like it, I don't like it, and believe me, he doesn't like it, but it is out of our hands. Now come."

She tried to drag Ella away by force, but Ella dug in her heels.

"Why does he have to stay? He can't help the queen any more than the physician."

Her stepmother froze and gripped Ella's arm even tighter.

"I don't know who told you about what happened to Her Highness," she hissed, "but do not breathe another word on the subject. If knowing is the only way to get you home, then know this – know it well and for heaven's sake know it quietly. Your father has been arrested on pending charges of treason and conspiracy to commit murder."

Her mouth open and her mind in shock, Ella followed her stepmother and stepsisters through freshly falling snow to the carriage without further protest.


	5. Day One-Hundred-Sixty-Eight

Ella woke up alone in Mrs. Wollens' bed to the sound and smell of sausages sizzling in the adjacent kitchen. In her own room she would have snuggled deeper under the covers until called to breakfast, but Mrs. Wollens' room had no fireplace and the chill winter morning drove her out of the bed and into the kitchen. There she found Mrs. Wollens making breakfast and Bruno lying at her feet, enjoying the warmth of the stove and waiting patiently for scraps to fall.

"Good morning, Ella," said Mrs. Wollens as she entered. "Any nightmares last night?"

"No," lied Ella. "Thanks for letting me sleep with you again."

"It's no trouble," said Mrs. Wollens. "I'm glad you slept better."

Ella found a cup and busied herself with the teapot to avoid meeting Mrs. Wollens' eyes.

"Do you think we might hear from Papa today?" asked Ella.

"I imagine these things just take time to sort out," replied Mrs. Wollens.

"Today makes one month from the Jubilee," said Ella. "Surely anyone who spends a month with Papa would know that he wouldn't hurt anyone."

"I'm sure they're just being careful. When you rush things, you make mistakes."

"They already made a mistake when they kept Papa."

She said it quietly, but Mrs. Wollens heard the catch in her voice at the end.

"Oh honey," she said, turning away from the stove and pulling Ella into a hug. "I know they did." Ella felt her face crumble, but finally, after weeks of tears, her eyes stayed dry. "They made a mistake, and it was a big mistake, but it's going to be okay. I promise." Mrs. Wollens held Ella tight and stroked her hair, and Ella tried her best to believe her words.

"Okay," Ella finally said. "It's going to be okay."

"That's right," said Mrs. Wollens, as one of the bells on the wall began to ring. "Your stepmother's up. Run along and get dressed, I need to take breakfast upstairs."

"Can I help?" asked Ella, wanting to stay near Mrs. Wollens.

Mrs. Wollens laughed. "What, in your nightgown? You most certainly may not; bringing breakfast is my job. Run along and get dressed, then if you still want to help, you can wake your sisters. I'll be bringing up breakfast for the three of you when I finish with your mother."

"Stepmother," corrected Ella, pulling a face and rising to rinse her teacup.

"Stop stalling, dishes are my job too," said Mrs. Wollens. "Off you go."

* * *

"Drizella," said Ella tentatively, "it's time to get up."

The lump beneath the blankets didn't move. Ella glanced back at Anastasia, who had been awake and talking to her doll when Ella entered.

"She doesn't like to get up," said Anastasia. "But I know what to do. Stand back!"

Anastasia stood up on her bed, bounced a few times on the mattress, then hurled her porcelain doll at Drizella's bed with all her strength. Ella winced as the doll struck Drizella's unprotected head.

"Ow!" exclaimed Drizella, sitting up. "That hurt!"

"Sorry, Drizella," said Ella. "Mrs. Wollens says it's time to get up, she's going to bring up –"

"I don't care!" said Drizella, throwing back the blankets. "I'm telling on you!"

"But it wasn't-" Ella tried to protest, but Drizella shoved past her and left the room.

"Ooh, you're in trouble now," said Anastasia.

"I didn't do anything!" exclaimed Ella. "You threw it!"

"Did not!" said Anastasia.

"You did!" said Ella in disbelief. "I saw you!"

"Prove it," said Anastasia, sticking out her tongue.

"You said you knew how to wake her up, and you stood on your bed, and you threw it! And now you're lying about it!"

"Mother!" said Anastasia, looking over Ella's shoulder. "Ella called me a liar!"

"Goodness Ella, what a morning." Ella's stepmother stepped into the room, followed closely by Drizella. Ella suddenly felt very small under her stepmother's gaze.

"Good morning, Stepmother," she ventured at last.

"Drizella tells me that you attacked her with a doll this morning."

"I didn't!" replied Ella quickly.

"I don't understand, are you calling Drizella a liar too?"

"No!"

Her stepmother raised an eyebrow.

"I just mean, I didn't throw the doll."

"Mother, look, she broke it!" Drizella had retrieved the doll from where it had fallen, and now presented it to her mother, showing a sharp crack running from one pale blue eye down to the jaw.

"No!" wailed Anastasia. "She killed Princess Buttercup!"

"Oh dear," said Ella's stepmother. "Ella, this is unacceptable behavior. Apologize to your sisters at once. Then you and I will have a little chat this afternoon about the consequences of your actions."

"But I didn't break it! It wasn't me!" Ella looked desperately from her stepmother to her stepsisters, and felt tears begin to fall. "I promise, I didn't do anything!"

"Oh, I suppose Anastasia broke her own doll then? And Drizella attacked herself? You are the liar, Ella, now apologize to your sisters!"

Ella was spared answering by Mrs. Wollens clearing her throat at the door.

"Not now, Mrs. Wollens, we are busy," said Ella's stepmother without turning around.

"Of course Madam, I wouldn't interrupt, except we've just received word from the palace. About Lord Tremaine."

Ella's tears stopped immediately, and she hastily dried her eyes with the backs of her hands. Mrs. Wollens handed a letter to Ella's stepmother, whose face had become tightly drawn.

"Please, what does it say?" asked Ella, unable to bear the silence as her stepmother scanned the letter quickly.

"He has been found guilty," said her stepmother hollowly. "We are permitted to go and see him today… and he will be executed tomorrow at dawn."

* * *

In the years to come, Ella would reflect that she had been extremely lucky that Drizella and Anastasia had blamed Ella for breaking the doll that day. Distracted by the news of her husband's impending execution, Ella's stepmother had merely banished Ella to the care of Mrs. Wollens for the day. Thus when she declared that the family would show their respect and support for the royal court's decision by not visiting Lord Tremaine in his final hours, Mrs. Wollens was spared the burden of finding an excuse to steal Ella away from her studies to make the journey in secret.

For the moment however, luck was the farthest thing from her mind. Fearful of rousing Lady Tremaine's suspicions by readying the horse and cart, she and Mrs. Wollens had made the trek to the castle on foot, bundled and wrapped tightly against the frigid cold, fighting a howling wind every step of the way. They walked in silence, Mrs. Wollens preoccupied with a torrent of thoughts and Ella's mind trapped in a thick numbing fog.

And then, after an infinity or after a moment, Ella couldn't decide which, they found themselves at the castle gates.

"State your name and business," said the guard dully.

"N-nellie Wollens and Ella Tremaine, here to see Lord Tremaine," said Mrs. Wollens, teeth chattering.

The guard frowned. "I don't believe His Majesty is entertaining a Lord Tremaine at the moment."

"But of course he is!" exclaimed Mrs. Wollens. "If he's not here then he's not anywhere! Well no," she amended herself, her mind slowly catching up, "That's not quite right. That is, entertaining isn't quite the word. I don't think you'd call it that when he's been- You see, he's not so much a guest as a- Well, that is to say-"

The guard's frown deepened.

"He wasn't allowed to return with the family after the Christmas Jubilee," said Mrs. Wollens, finally finding the beginnings of an explanation. "They said he was arrested, and then we didn't hear anything more until this morning, there was a messenger came to the house and delivered a letter saying today was to be our last day to see him alive on this good earth!" Her voice rose hysterically at the end, and she paused to gather herself. "Please, sir, I've brought his daughter. We were told we could see him if we came today."

"Wait here." The guard disappeared, returning with a short, grim-faced man.

"Follow me," he said.

In they went, quickly leaving the broad walk leading to the grand main entrance in favor of smaller, rougher paths winding around sharp, irregular corners, through what appeared to be a miniature village inside the castle gates. They saw no nobles, but people bustled everywhere, despite the cold, carrying loads, leading horses, shouting back and forth, all squeezed together tightly into the bailey between the downward sloping side of the castle proper and the outer wall. Ella kept her head down and pressed close to Mrs. Wollens.

They stopped in front of a plain wooden door set unobtrusively into the base of the wall of the main castle. Their guide pounded on the door three times.

It was opened by a pale man with a hunched back that brought his face down nearly to Ella's level. He examined Ella and Mrs. Wollens suspiciously, squinting through the wind.

"For Lord Tremaine," said their guide.

The hunchback sniffed disapprovingly, then turned back inside. Ella and Mrs. Wollens paused on the threshold.

"Go on," said their guide. "Gunther will see you through."

They stepped inside and hurried to catch up to the hunchback's retreating form. Once they were inside, the door swung shut behind them, plunging them into darkness. Ella grabbed for Mrs. Wollens, who let out a small shriek, before they heard a match strike and saw a torch flare up ahead. Gunther chuckled.

"Down we go," he said, tottering off again.

The passageway was narrow and became increasingly damp the longer they walked. Ella kept her eyes fixed on Gunther's torch and tried to ignore the rustlings and squeaks coming from the shadows at her feet. "Almost there," murmured Mrs. Wollens. "Almost there."

And then they were. Gunther stopped in front of a door made of thick metal bars, rested his torch in a bracket on the wall, and then drew a large brass key ring from within the folds of his cloak. He opened the door, and then Ella saw her father.

* * *

She disentangled herself from Mrs. Wollens and ran to him, burying her head in his chest and hugging him tight. He smelled of cinders and sweat, but she could feel his warmth and hear his heart beating strongly as he held her close. Mrs. Wollens watched father and daughter for a moment, then when neither of them looked up, sat down on an upturned bucket with a heavy sigh and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes.

"Are you alright, darling?" he asked at last, pulling back just enough to look down at her.

Ella sat up in his lap and faced him, frowning.

"Are you, Papa?"

He held her gaze as long as he could, then drew her close again.

"I will be," he said at last. "Don't you worry about me."

"But Papa-"

"Shh," he said, smoothing her hair. "Don't you worry about me."

"Too late," she murmured into his chest.

He sighed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Life can get complicated. I'm sorry it turned out this way. It wasn't supposed to, things got out of hand, and I'm sorry for that. I have a price to pay, but I never meant to hurt you with it. I'm sorry."

"I don't understand," said Ella.

"I know you don't," he said. "Just understand that I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," said Ella.

He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice came thickly.

"Thank you, Ella."

"Papa?" she asked.

"Yes, Ella?"

"What's going to happen next?"

"Don't you worry," he said. "You are going to be just fine. Mrs. Wollens and your stepmother will look after you and Anastasia and Drizella. And you will grow up and become a beautiful, kind, thoughtful young lady, just like your mother was. And then a young man will come along, just as I did, and he'll see your beauty and kindness and thoughtfulness, and he'll find himself unable to think of anything but you. And you'll find the same in him. And he'll ask you to marry him, and if he is very lucky, you'll say yes, and then the two of you will live happily ever after."

"But what about you?"

"It's time for me to make my exit," he said. "I've played my part on this stage, and my curtain is about to fall. It's the natural order of things."

"I don't want you to go," said Ella.

"I know. I'm sorry. I love you. I'll always love you, no matter where I am or where you are. You know that, right? Remember that."

"I love you too, Papa."

* * *

Ella stayed in her father's arms until two guards arrived.

"It's time," one said. "Will they be accompanying you to the green?"

"No," said Ella's father quickly. "No, they won't be."

"Then this is where you part."

At his words, Ella clung all the more tightly to her father.

"I'm not ready," she said.

"I know Colonel, neither am I," he admitted. "But sometimes we don't have time to be ready. Then we must have courage and trust in the Lord to see us through."

Still she clung to him, desperate to remain in his arms.

"I love you always," he said. "Never forget that. You will be just fine. I promise. And so will I," he added, as much to himself as to her.

The guard cleared his throat.

"I love you, Ella," he said again, rising to hand her off to Mrs. Wollens. "You're getting too big to be carried- you're growing up into a wonderful young lady- have courage- be kind- you will be just fine. I promise. I love you always."

"I love you," she managed.

He turned to Mrs. Wollens.

"Thank you," he said. "Thank you for bringing her today, thank you for looking after both of us so well. Keep her safe, raise her well."

"Of course," said Mrs. Wollens. "I'll look after her, she's in good hands."

"Thank you, Mrs. Wollens. For everything."

"Of course," she said. She paused, then asked carefully, "Is there any message you'd like me to give to Lady Tremaine?"

He sighed. "Tell her goodbye, I suppose, and the girls too. They should be able to live comfortably enough with what's left if they're careful."

"Yes sir. I'll tell them that. And the very best of luck to you, sir."

"Thank you, Mrs. Wollens."

"It's time sir," said the guard again.

"Yes, of course," said Ella's father. "Here we go then." He kissed the top of Ella's head and squeezed her hand. "Have courage, Colonel," he said.

"Yes, Papa," said Ella. "You too."

Something Ella couldn't read passed over his face, then he straightened up and turned to the guard.

"I am at your service, gentlemen," he said, and they escorted him out, one before and one behind.

Ella and Mrs. Wollens watched him as far as they could in the dim torchlit passage. Then they turned away and followed Gunther once more, through the tunnels and out into the first piercing winter rays of the new dawning day.

 **AN: Whew! Tell me what you thought - I know I broke format a bit in this one, was it noticeable or did it blend well enough? And how are you guys doing with this whole treason-sub-plot-deviation from the typical storyline? Is it still believable? In character?**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	6. Day One-Hundred-Sixty-Nine

The sun was nearly a full handbreadth above the horizon when they returned. Mrs. Wollens carried Ella on her back, and Ella had almost dozed off when Mrs. Wollens set her down.

"We're home," she said softly, opening the kitchen door.

"Welcome back," said a cold voice from within, making them both jump. They stepped inside, and their eyes slowly adjusted from the bright snowy sunlight to the shadows of the kitchen to see Ella's stepmother sitting stiffly at the table.

"Madam," said Mrs. Wollens.

"Ella, make us some tea," said Lady Tremaine.

"Oh I'll do that," said Mrs. Wollens, throwing her cloak on the hook and moving to the kettle.

"No," said Ella's stepmother abruptly. "I asked Ella to do it."

"The girl's had an awful night, she needs to rest-"

"Ella, make the tea," she said again.

"Where's Bruno?" asked Ella suddenly. Since the winter had started, he usually spent his night in the kitchen, but this morning he was nowhere to be found.

"The mutt is in the yard, where he belongs," answered her stepmother. "I won't ask you again, Ella."

"He'll freeze out there!" protested Ella. She turned to go outside again, but her stepmother was faster, and grabbed her arm.

"I asked you to make tea," she said slowly. "You may go outside when you have done so."

Ella struggled against her hold, tears welling up in her eyes.

"If you go outside now, I will not allow either of you back inside the house until spring," said her stepmother. "Do I make myself clear?"

Ella stopped struggling, more out of shock than acquiescence, but when her stepmother released her, she turned back inside, went to the stove, and knelt down to reach inside its belly and rekindle the fire.

"That wasn't so hard now, was it?" her stepmother asked. "I am not unreasonable."

"Madam-" started Mrs. Wollens.

"Mrs. Wollens," interrupted Lady Tremaine. "Tell me where you were."

"I took Ella to see her father," said Mrs. Wollens, after some hesitation.

"After I explicitly forbade it?"

"Yes."

"You disobeyed me. You disappeared with a child. You abandoned your post while on duty."

"My duty is to that girl and her father!" said Mrs. Wollens hotly.

"Not anymore!" snapped Lady Tremaine. "Her father is dead, I am mistress of this house and all within it, and your duty is now to me, and me alone."

"You would deny her the last chance to see her father, and you would deny him the last chance to see his only remaining family! She was the last light of his world, and you had no right to keep her from him! You don't know what he was like after her mother-"

"You presume too far," said Lady Tremaine, rising. "You forget your place, and you forget mine. That chit is far from his only remaining family, I am his wife!"

"A wife in the church maketh not a wife in the heart," said Mrs. Wollens. "Nor in the bedroom, for that matter."

Lady Tremaine's nostrils flared and her face blanched, even as her height towered over Mrs. Wollens. She glared down venomously into the housekeeper's eyes, then struck her across the face so quickly that without the crack that echoed through the kitchen and the reddening handprint on her cheek, Ella would have missed it.

"How dare you," said Lady Tremaine quietly, her voice low and tight. "I will not tolerate disobedience and disrespect from my staff. You are dismissed, Mrs. Wollens. Collect your belongings and leave at once." She turned to leave without waiting for a response. At the kitchen stairs, she paused and turned and locked eyes onto Ella, still kneeling by the stove.

"Bring the tea to my sitting room when it is done. And take two cups to your sisters."

Ella watched her skirts swiftly swish out of sight.

* * *

Mrs. Wollens finally broke the silence.

"Come on," she said, "Let's go find Bruno."

"But the tea-"

"The water doesn't need our help to boil. Besides, we'll hear the kettle from the yard."

So they put on their cloaks again and ventured back outside.

"I'm sorry she hit you," said Ella suddenly, awkwardly, painfully. Someone had to say it, and she doubted her stepmother would be apologizing any time soon. "Are you okay?" she asked, glancing sideways at Mrs. Wollens. The red handprint shone clearly in the bright sun, each finger crisp.

"I will be," said Mrs. Wollens, grimacing. She saw Ella's face and sighed. "I'm sorry you saw that. And heard that."

"Thank you for taking me to see Papa," said Ella.

"You're welcome."

"It looks like it hurts," said Ella. She stooped down and picked up a handful of snow, offering it to Mrs. Wollens. "Maybe this'll make it feel better."

"Thank you," said Mrs. Wollens, hissing softly as she touched it to her face. "Now where do you suppose that dog's gotten to?"

"The only tracks out here are ours," said Ella.

"So he's been out since before the snow stopped. I'll bet he's found himself somewhere warm to wait."

Mrs. Wollens was right. They found him in the stable, nestled into the horses' hay. Ella fussed over him, checking him all over, but he seemed no worse for his night out.

"Oh Bruno," she said. "I'm sorry you were out here. I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"That was out of your control," said Mrs. Wollens.

"I know," said Ella. "I'm still sorry for it though."

Mrs. Wollens smiled sadly. "You have a kind heart, Ella."

"Are you really going to go?" she asked.

"I have to."

"I could talk to her," offered Ella. "Papa wouldn't want you to go."

"I'm not sure it matters anymore what your Papa would have wanted. Besides, I've made a scene. I can't stay after that. It's time for me to move on."

Ella played with one of Bruno's long soft ears idly, trying to imagine life without either Mrs. Wollens or her father.

"You promised Papa you'd look after me."

Mrs. Wollens sighed. "What would you have me do, Ella?"

"I'd have you stay."

"And your stepmother?"

Ella's brow furrowed.

"She scares me," she said. "Especially now."

"You'll learn to get along. I pushed her too far, and that's my fault, but that had nothing to do with you. She's your family now. It'll be different than it was with just you and your father, but there's nothing wrong with different."

"Me and my father and you," said Ella. "Won't you miss us?"

"Of course, I'll miss you and your father very much, but that doesn't matter. Your stepmother is right, she's the mistress of this house, and if she says I go, I go."

"I wish I were old enough to be mistress of this house," said Ella.

"You will, someday. But in the meantime, you're starting a new chapter. Find a way to love your stepmother and stepsisters. You've all suffered a loss, and you need to help each other through. Family's important for that."

"I want you for that." Ella reached up to take her hand.

Mrs. Wollens stared at it sadly. Ella looked up at her face. The handprint was already fading. Melted snow trickled along her jaw and down her neck, disappearing into the folds of her cloak. She looked tired, and older than Ella had ever seen her.

"It can't be me," she said brokenly. "You don't have me anymore." She let go of Ella's hand and took a step backwards. Ella, still crouched down by Bruno, felt a cold wind sweep into the void.

"Mrs. Wollens-"

"Goodbye, Ella." Mrs. Wollens turned and left the stable quickly. Ella found herself too surprised to follow, but she watched her all the way back to the kitchen door, head bent and back hunched against the wind. Mrs. Wollens didn't look back. It occurred to Ella that there might have been more than melting snow wetting Mrs. Wollens' cheek.

Bruno whined.

"I don't know," said Ella. "I don't understand."

A tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it into Bruno's fur. Then the flood started in earnest and she drew him close, a barrier against her tears, against the wind and the cold and the snow, against the aching hole of her father's death and Mrs. Wollens' departure.

* * *

It was hunger that finally moved her, hours later. She wasn't sure if she'd slept, or merely drifted away in the tides of thoughts, but a sharp ache in her belly reminded her that she hadn't eaten since noon yesterday. She nudged Bruno off of her lap and stood, reaching for the wall as she swayed unsteadily. She felt Bruno watching her carefully.

"I'm alright," she told him. "I just need some breakfast. Or dinner," she amended, registering the setting sun. "Come to think of it, you probably do too. Come on."

Together, they made their way across the yard. Ella pushed on the kitchen door, only to find that the inside bolt had been drawn, locking them out.

"That's funny, Mrs. Wollens never bolts this door," said Ella. "But then, I guess Mrs. Wollens has left by now."

Sighing, she led Bruno around to the main entrance. This time, she wasn't surprised to find the lock in place. Standing on tiptoe, she found the doorknocker just within her reach.

Drizella opened the door, Anastasia giggling behind her.

"Thanks Drizella, someone bolted the kitchen door-"

"Uh-uh," said Drizella, blocking her way as Ella tried to step inside. "We're not supposed to let you in."

"What? Stop playing, I'm cold and I need to eat something."

She tried again to move past, but again Drizella moved in front of her.

"I'm not playing, and I don't care if you're cold, you were stupid enough to go outside in the first place. Besides, we missed our tea this morning because someone thinks her dumb dog is more important than her sisters."

"What? It's not that I think Bruno is more important, I started the tea and then…" Ella's voice trailed off as she tried to piece the morning back together. "I started the tea, it was on the stove, and we were going to come in when we heard it whistle, and then, and then Mrs. Wollens left…" She felt a wave of nausea as she remembered Mrs. Wollens walking away, before Bruno whining beside her brought her back. "Come on, Drizella, let me in!"

Ella felt tears pooling as she pled, and wiped at them angrily with the back of her hand.

"Ooh, look Anastasia, she's crying! Cry-baby," cackled Drizella.

"Now Drizella, young ladies do not call names." Lady Tremaine appeared behind her daughters, and regarded Ella critically. "However much truth they hold."

Ella shrank back away from her stepmother, but as she did, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass of a picture frame behind her stepfamily. Her hair had long since escaped the careful plait Mrs. Wollens had put in the day before and now sported stray pieces of straw. Her face was pale. Her eyes were wet and rimmed with red, and held a desperate wildness that Ella didn't recognize. Mud caked her cloak and the skirt of her dress, and Ella knew it would be worse in the back where she had sat on it most of the day. In short, she looked as bad as she felt.

She took a deep breath.

"Please may I come in?"

"Now you want to come in."

"I'm cold, and I haven't eaten-"

"Quiet. I told you that if you went back outside before making tea you would find yourself outside until spring."

"Yes, but-"

"I said quiet. Understood?"

Ella nodded silently.

"Good. As I was saying, I told you that if you went back outside you would be outside until spring, and you went back outside nevertheless. Am I wrong?"

Ella shook her head.

"I asked you a question, speak up. Am I wrong?"

"No," said Ella. "But-"

"No buts. Those are the facts. This is not complicated. I am not in the habit of breaking my word."

Ella shivered, and pulled her wet cloak tighter around her shoulders.

"Please," she said. "I can't stay out here. Give me another chance. I was wrong, I shouldn't have left, but I won't do it again, I promise."

"Hear that girls?" said her stepmother. "She promises. But I wonder, can she keep her promises?"

"Yes, I can, I promise!" cried Ella desperately.

"She promises she can keep her promises. Not terribly useful. We could run down this rabbit hole all night."

"Let me show you," said Ella. "Give me another chance."

"Very well," said her stepmother slowly. "Here is your second chance: You may come inside, but only as far as the kitchen. You will bring all three of us tea every morning. Do this faithfully until the dogwood blooms, and then you will regain free reign throughout the house. Fail, and you will wait out the winter with the horses. Agreed?"

"Agreed," said Ella quickly. "May I come in now?"

"Certainly."

Relieved, Ella started to come inside, but again Drizella blocked her way as her stepmother continued.

"Drizella will unbolt the kitchen door for you. Meet her there."

Drizella slammed the front door shut, nearly clipping Ella on the nose. She stepped back and drew in a shaky breath, tangling her fingers in Bruno's fur.

"I'm okay," she said. "They're letting us in."

Sighing, she turned to retrace her snowy footprints back to the kitchen.

* * *

True to her stepmother's word, the kitchen door swung open at Ella's touch. She was alone, Drizella hadn't stayed to greet her, but Ella didn't think they had anything to say to each other if she had stayed. Ella found a matchbook and lit the fire, then took off her wet things to dry in front of it. She tried the door to Mrs. Wollens' room, but found it locked. Only as far as the kitchen, her stepmother had said. That was the deal.

Ella tried to calculate when the dogwoods would be in bloom. Too long from now, she thought, as a fresh wave of fatigue swept over her. Two months, maybe more. Two months of staying below stairs, two months of making and serving tea, two months of sleeping on the floor. The thought overwhelmed her, but she told herself it was manageable.

Besides, she thought as she drifted off on the rug next to Bruno, two months was nothing considered against a lifetime without her father or Mrs. Wollens.


	7. Day Two-Hundred-Fifty-One

The sterling silver teapot, polished to shine, filled with Earl Grey steeped for seven minutes. Three teacups, each with saucer and teaspoon, the milk pitcher, filled fresh from that morning's milking, and the sugar pot. Honey for Anastasia, half a stick of cinnamon for Drizella, and two slices of lemon for Stepmother. A small dish of curled chocolate shavings, not chunks, never again chunks, because some lessons in life are unforgettable.

And today, at last, placed ever so carefully beside the chocolate, a small sprig of dogwood blossoms, soft and white as snow.

The tray was heavy when it was fully laden, as it was now, and had been for each of the past eighty-one mornings. It could only be safely carried in short arms by employing both hands and elbows to their full advantage, making opening doors a podiatric achievement worthy of the most celebrated circus contortionists. But Ella had mastered the steps of the dance, eighty-one mornings later, and gracefulness proved itself an equal partner to caution in her steps as she made her way from the kitchen up to the bedrooms.

The door to her stepsisters' room was open. That was unusual. A quick glance inside revealed unmade beds, absent slippers, and no stepsisters.

The door to Lady Tremaine's chambers was closed. Ella shifted to balance the tray carefully against her hip, freeing one hand to knock quietly before opening the door and entering.

Lady Tremaine was seated at the writing desk, sorting through her correspondence.

"Leave it on the table," she said, without looking up.

Ella turned to the coffee table, currently occupied by four bare feet. At the other end of the feet, Anastasia and Drizella lounged on the settee behind the table, still in their nightgowns. They glanced at each other knowingly as Ella approached.

"Good morning," said Ella.

Drizella giggled. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," said Ella. "It is, for me at least. And I hope it is for you too."

"My mornings are always good," said Anastasia.

"Are not," said Drizella.

"Are too," said Anastasia.

"Are not infinity."

Anastasia stuck her tongue out.

Drizella reciprocated.

Ella tried shifting her weight to relieve some of the strain on her arms.

"Can you two please move your feet so I can put this down?"

"Yes," said Drizella, examining a hangnail.

Neither of them moved.

"It's heavy," Ella added.

"Mm," said Drizella.

Still their feet remained on the table.

Ella waited silently. Drizella began to pick at the hangnail. Anastasia blew a raspberry. Lady Tremaine turned around at its pop.

"Anastasia, what have I told you about obscene noises?"

"That they are unattractive and unbecoming for young ladies, and that God did not intend for me to take example from a codfish."

"That's right. So kindly restrain yourself." Finished with Anastasia, she turned to Ella, as if surprised to see her still there.

"I said to leave it," she said.

"Their feet are blocking the table; I asked them to move, but they won't," said Ella.

"Oh, is that what you meant?" said Drizella, removing her feet from the table and sitting up. Anastasia followed suit. "You asked if we could, I didn't know you meant if we would."

Ella flushed, and bent to set down the tray. As she rose, she brushed loose strands of hair out of her eyes, wincing at sudden soreness in her arms. Her vision cleared, she caught Lady Tremaine watching her.

"Girls," she said, without taking her eyes off Ella, "take your tea to your room."

"But-" began Anastasia.

"Now."

They left, Anastasia with a pout, Drizella with a smirk and a loud whisper to Ella.

"Now see if you still think it's a good morning."

Lady Tremaine ignored her daughter's remark, and moved to take their place on the settee. Unlike her daughters, she sat upright, with iron posture and poise. She reached for the teapot and slowly poured herself a cup of tea, then took one of the lemon slices and began squeezing it into the cup, careful not to let any of the juice onto her fingers in the process.

Ella's fingers fidgeted inside the deep pockets of Mrs. Wollens' too-big apron.

Lady Tremaine raised the cup to her lips, blew on it softly, and took a careful sip before setting the cup back down and finally turning to Ella.

"It's time you and I had a talk," said Lady Tremaine at last.

"The dogwood bloomed this morning," said Ella.

"Don't change the subject," said Lady Tremaine.

"I thought that was going to be the subject."

"What do I care if the dogwood blooms? It's a tree, that's what it's supposed to do."

"Well yes, but you said I could move back upstairs when the dogwood blooms, if I made the tea every morning. And I have, and now the dogwood has bloomed."

"Oh heavens, child. Don't be such a simpleton. Forget the dogwood. We need to discuss your future."

"Moving back upstairs is part of my future," said Ella.

"My dear, we need to think a bit further than the coming week. I have been giving your future quite a bit of thought lately. It's a rather inconvenient situation, but there's really nothing to do but to try to make the best of it."

"I don't understand," said Ella. "What inconvenient situation?"

"Why, you of course. Well, and the embarrassment of your father's death. But they're two sides of the same coin. Your father could not have chosen a more awkward way to go, but the mere fact of his death coupled with a complete lack of provision for you and your future brings us to where we are today."

"But he did provision for my future. He told me that you and Mrs. Wollens would look after me, just like Drizella and Anastasia."

"Did he now," said Lady Tremaine dryly. "Well, here are the facts of the matter. Mrs. Wollens is no longer here, and this shall be the last time her name is mentioned in my presence. I have attempted to contact your father's family, but it would seem that they are not interested in you. You are alone in the world."

Ella tensed. Her father's family meant only her uncle, and her uncle's disinterest, while a mild disappointment, came as no surprise – she had been too little to remember the last time he had visited his brother. But something else did bother her.

"You're my family too – you and Drizella and Anastasia."

Lady Tremaine grimaced, and added the other lemon slice to her tea before responding.

"Death dissolves the bonds of marriage," she said, gently swirling the contents of her cup counterclockwise. "Your father is no longer my husband, therefore I am no longer your mother."

"What are you then?" asked Ella, a knot growing in her stomach.

"I am Lady Tremaine."

"That's not what I meant exactly."

"You want to know what role I will play in your life now."

"Yes."

"I will not cast you out into the streets. I considered it, and the considerable burden it would lift from the household finances, but I believe a better solution exists. A more mutually beneficial solution. That is why I am going to permit you to stay here."

Ella's shoulders relaxed, though the knot in her stomach remained.

"However," continued Lady Tremaine, "I expect you to earn your keep. Nothing in life is free. You will cook and you will clean, and you will assist my daughters and me as needed. Understood?"

Ella nodded.

Her stepmother frowned. "You will speak when spoken to, and you will address me as either Lady Tremaine or Madam."

"Yes, Madam," said Ella. The title felt cumbersome, like talking around a mouthful of marbles.

"Very good." Lady Tremaine drained the last of her tea and replaced the cup on the tray. "Now collect the rest of the tea things from Drizella and Anastasia and do the washing up. After that, make sure Drizella and Anastasia are dressed and ready for their morning lessons. You will make the beds and tidy the bedrooms before making lunch. After lunch, we will see about moving Drizella into your old room."

"My old room? Madam?"

"Yes. She's been asking after it since we moved in, and I think the south-facing window will give her better air at night."

"But that's my room!"

"Not anymore." She stood, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her skirt. "You are not your father's little princess any longer. The sooner you understand that, the better."

Her words knocked the wind out of Ella.

"I'm not- I don't- He never-" she fumbled.

"We're finished here," said Lady Tremaine. "I expect lunch to be on the table at noon."

* * *

Ella moved through the rest of the morning in a daze. She collected her stepsisters' teacups in silence, finally understanding Drizella's earlier remarks, but unable to muster any retorts of her own.

Though they weren't her stepsisters any longer, she supposed, not if Lady Tremaine was no longer her stepmother. How had she put it? Death dissolves the bonds of marriage. Marriage, perhaps, but that was different than fatherhood. He would always be her father. But then did that make him still Drizella and Anastasia's father as well? Maybe they were still stepsisters after all. Ella wasn't sure whether she wanted them to be or not.

But why was she even having this conversation with herself? You can't choose your family. Family isn't a choice. Her father loved her no matter what she said or did, and she loved him the same way. Mrs. Wollens could leave, because despite the love and affection between her and Ella, in the end she wasn't family and wasn't bound to Ella or her father they way they were bound to each other. Family was different.

So she ended where she had begun – were Lady Tremaine and her daughters Ella's family?

Whatever they were, they took their lunch together in the dining room without Ella. After seeing them settled in, she pocketed a piece of bread and drifted upstairs to her old room.

Her first thought was that nothing had changed – the wardrobe door was still ajar, revealing a handful of limp pinafores, the book on her bedside table was still there, with the bookmark untouched. Even the wicker basket of laundry in the corner held the same clothes as it had the night Ella awoke from her nightmare and snuck down to join Mrs. Wollens.

Her regained freedom would allow her to finally change clothes today, she realized, and sleep in a proper nightgown tonight.

She frowned. Where would she sleep tonight? Surely not in the kitchen anymore, but Stepmother – that was, Lady Tremaine – hadn't said. Maybe she would finally unlock Mrs. Wollens' room.

Sighing, she pushed away the endless questions nagging at her mind, and lay back on the bed. Sunlight from the open window warmed the coverlet and Ella closed her eyes. Faster than she remembered was possible, she dozed off into a world of sunny picnics and summer swims, all in the arms of her father, not pale and gaunt as she'd last seen him, but as he was before, tall and strong and laughing.

They ran through a meadow and he lifted her up off her feet by her elbows and spun her in a circle, her feet flying, around and around. The trees and grass around them blurred as they turned, and Ella kept her eyes locked on his face, laughing and carefree, until it darkened, and suddenly saddened, and his grip loosened, and even as Ella tried to grab at his arms, his hands, any part of him, he let go completely and the momentum of his spin sent her flying away, over the trees and out of sight.

And she awoke in her bed in the patch of sun, just as her stepsisters entered. "Hey!" said Drizella. "Get off my bed! Mother, tell her to get off!"

Lady Tremaine followed her daughters in.

"Ella? I thought I was quite clear this morning."

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," said Ella, scrambling off the bed. "I just-"

"And she left crumbs!" whined Drizella. "She's going to attract mice to my bed!"

"Or spiders!" added Anastasia. "Or ants, or centipedes!"

"Girls, girls, settle down," said Lady Tremaine. "Let's not get carried away. Sleeping Beauty here will shake out the bedding and sweep the floor. For that matter, Ella, you'd better wash all the bedding here, just in case. For a fresh start for Drizella's new room. And since you're already doing a load, do the other beds as well."

"All the beds?" asked Ella. "That'll take all afternoon! And I just made them this morning!"

"Best get started then. And come back up here when you have them drying, you need to clear away your things so Drizella will have enough space."

As she spoke, she pulled up the corners of the bedding and thrust the bundle into Ella's arms, pushing her towards the door.

"Go," she said.

Ella went.

* * *

It was late that evening when Ella finally screwed her courage to the sticking place and sought out Lady Tremaine. She found her in Ella's father's study, pouring over papers, slim reading glasses sliding low to the end of her nose.

"Yes, what is it?" asked Lady Tremaine impatiently.

"Well, it's just, I was wondering, I know Drizella's in my room now, but the dogwood did bloom today, and Mrs. Wol- the kitchen bedroom, I mean, it's still locked, and there's Drizella's old bed in Anastasia's room, but I wasn't sure-"

"I haven't the faintest idea what you are trying to say, child. Get to the point."

"Where do I sleep now?"

Lady Tremaine sighed and rubbed her temples.

"Really, Ella, this is why you interrupted me? You've been sleeping in the kitchen for months now, I don't see the problem."

"But the whole point of the tea was so I could get out of the kitchen."

"What, have you found peas under your mattress there?" she asked scornfully.

"There is no mattress there. There's no bed there."

"Of course not; beds are not generally found in kitchens."

"Can you unlock the kitchen bedroom so I can sleep in the bed there?"

"No, that would be quite impossible. I intend to hire a gardener soon, and that room will go to him."

"But in the meantime, couldn't I sleep there? Unless you'd like me to move in to Anastasia's room with her."

"Out of the question. You will not impose upon Anastasia. And no, I don't think it would be a good idea for you to get used to the kitchen bedroom now, only to have to move again later."

"Then where? I've got to sleep someplace, and if the kitchen bedroom and the three bedrooms upstairs are all out, then would you rather have me take over the library, parlor, or sitting room?"

"The attic," said Lady Tremaine suddenly.

"The- the attic?" stammered Ella.

"Yes, the attic. It's perfect. I believe you'll find it rather spacious, if I recall correctly, and it's already furnished. What a good idea."

"But it's so-" Ella broke off, not sure how to finish the sentence. Dark? Scary? Dusty? It had been years since anyone had been up there. While it was large, most of the space was taken up by furniture put away for storage and long since forgotten.

"Perfect, yes. Now, if that's all-" Lady Tremaine made a dismissive gesture and turned back to her papers.

Ella left the room wishing she had brought up the topic sooner, at least while there was still daylight. She didn't remember there being any lamps in the attic, and wasn't eager to go exploring on her first night by candlelight.

On the other hand, she had awakened this morning to a spider crawling across her face.

She fetched a candle from the kitchen, then made her way up the winding back staircase. Designed both to give the house a fairy tale style turret and to allow staff to move throughout the house discreetly, it opened to both the kitchen and vegetable garden at the basement level, then passed through the library on the first floor and the bedroom hallway on the second floor via cleverly disguised entrances before opening into the open third floor attics, which spanned the entire breadth and width of the house, and culminating in a tiny round fourth floor room formed by the conical roof. This room had no door, only the open space in the floor through which the stairs led. Far too small and awkward an entrance for furniture, Ella knew it would be empty.

Though it was late and her body ached from the afternoon of laundry and moving Drizella's things, she found her mind too restless to sleep. She blew out the candle and sat on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest under her thin nightgown as she patiently waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

"Congratulations," she thought to herself. "You wanted to move upstairs, and now you have, as far upstairs as possible."

 **AN: So book plug time! Have any of you read Marissa Meyer's _Cinder_? It's a Cinderella with cyborgs and hovercars and moon magic and it sounds weird, but it's really well done and really original but still really true to the parts that keep me coming back to the Cinderella story. A friend recommended it to me and I picked it up from the library this weekend and read all 390 pages that same day. What a great feeling. Isn't summer wonderful? And the best part is, there are sequels too (possibly not as good, I don't know yet, but one can hope)! Anyway, I recommend it. **

**And out of general curiosity, what are y'all's favorite Cinderella versions/adaptations/retellings (book, movie, tv series, fanfics, whatever)?**


	8. Day Three-Hundred-Four

**AN: Thanks to those of you who shared your favorite Cinderella versions! I have to agree with Guest, my favorite is the 2011 Italian miniseries Cenerentola (subbed not dubbed if, like me, you don't speak Italian). The plot additions really flesh out the traditional story really well, and besides, I'm partial to pianos (and the sound of Italian, even if I can't understand it).**

 **Enjoy, and don't forget to review if you like it! (or if you don't like, I'm not picky...)**

Ella smiled and closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of warm sun on her face and cool water on her bare feet. She sat on the edge of the bubbling fountain in the center of the town square, her shoes discarded on the ground behind her, listening to the people passing by as she waited for Lady Tremaine and her daughters to finish shopping. Children splashed and played around her, and though once Ella would have joined them, she now made an effort to keep herself clean and dry.

But she hadn't been able to resist dipping her feet. After all, she reasoned, she had hit a growth spurt and the hem of her dress now barely reached her knees, keeping it clear of the shallow water. There was no reason Lady Tremaine should ever find out.

It wasn't like Silas would tell. The new gardener had driven them all into town that morning, dropping them off at the hatter's shop. When Ella had been sent back to the coach with the first wave of purchases, she'd found him snoring in the driver's seat, his wide-brimmed hat pulled down low over his face.

So she'd left the packages without disturbing him, and now dallied at the fountain, knowing that it could be hours before her sisters were ready to leave the dressmaker's. Why shouldn't she seize the chance to relax for a minute?

And the water was so relaxing. She kicked gently with her feet, letting the water slide and ripple between her splayed toes, smooth as silk and clear as glass. Her feet had grown along with her legs in the growth spurt, and were happy to be free of the shoes that had begun to pinch her toes. She had been meaning to ask Lady Tremaine to stop by the cobbler's later. Mustn't forget.

But she knew she wouldn't forget. She hadn't forgotten in the week leading up to this trip, and she wouldn't forget today. No, it was something else which kept her from broaching the subject every time a chance arose. A desire not to stir the pot and disrupt the uneasy peace, a desire to prove that she was not a burden to the household. A desire for a smile, or a nod, some sign of approval. Lately there had been days where it seemed she could do nothing right.

Today would become one of those days if she tarried much longer. Sighing, she swung her legs out of the fountain and reached for her shoes.

To her surprise, her hand met flesh. She looked down and caught a glimpse of big brown eyes wide with fright before the small figure sprang up and started running through the crowd, each hand clutching one of Ella's shoes.

"Hey!" she shouted, taking off after the figure.

It didn't stop, not that she had really expected that it would. The townspeople milling around the square were no help; it was a sparse crowd and running children were not worth notice. She was on her own. So she ran, her bare feet pounding against pebbled cobblestones, her eyes fixed on the figure as it led her through winding streets and narrow alleys.

It wasn't long before she found herself in a part of town she didn't recognize. Here the streets were dirt and the buildings wood. Craftsmen watched the road from the shadowy depths of their workshops, but no children played in the street. The sound of dogs fighting floated out from one alley entrance, thankfully one the figure ignored.

Finally the figure darted down a short side street and Ella saw their destination. The side street ran out of town, but in the several hundred yards between the last buildings of town and the woods beyond sat a small chapel. St. Michael's, according to the peeling paint of the wooden sign at the entrance. Ella slowed as she approached, wary of rushing headlong into unfamiliar territory.

She could tell that the chapel had once been white, but rain and exposure had long since stripped most of the paint from the wood. There was neither glass nor parchment paper in any of the windows, and the door remained open where the figure had left it.

Cautiously, she stepped inside.

It was a single room. At the entrance was a row of tarnished coat hooks, with several gaps in the line. Past a low divider were several rows of pews. In front of the pews was a rough-hewn alter table. And standing behind the alter table was a small boy, younger than Ella, with a tangled mop of curly brown hair and big brown eyes.

"I claim sanctuary, in the name of Saint Michael!" he cried as Ella entered.

"I'm not going to hurt you," said Ella.

"You were chasing me," said the boy. "You chased me all the way here."

"You took my shoes."

"You weren't using them. They were just lying there. Finders keepers."

"I just took them off so I could dip in the fountain."

"Finders keepers," he said again.

"That's stealing," she said.

He shrugged.

"I'll get in trouble if I go back without my shoes."

He shrugged again.

Ella sighed. She took in his tangled hair, the smudge of dirt on his nose, his too-large shirt, torn at the sleeves and belted with a length of rope. The cuffs of his pants ended in frayed tatters several inches above his ankles and his bare feet were coated with dust, though to be fair, her feet were not in any better shape at the moment.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"What's yours?" he countered.

"Ella Tremaine."

"Tremaine? Isn't that the lord in the big house down the way?"

"Yes, Lord Tremaine is my father."

He scoffed.

"Liar. You're not a lord's daughter."

"I am so."

"Prove it."

"What? How am I supposed to prove it? I just am."

"Well in that case, I'm the Duke of Buckingham."

"Now you're the liar."

He grinned and gave a flourishing bow.

"At your service, milady."

Ella laughed in spite of herself.

"What is this place?" she asked, looking around.

"St. Michael's chapel."

"Is it still open? In use, I mean? Seems rather abandoned."

"It's open when it needs to be."

"What does that mean?"

"People keep dying, they'll keep burying them. And if they can't afford a plot at St. John's or St. Mary's, they end up here. But there's no Sunday morning weekly or nothing."

Ella moved to the row of windows and looked out towards the woods. If she hadn't been told it was a graveyard, she wouldn't have guessed. There were rises and falls in the land, but not in any regular pattern, and tall grass grew thickly all around.

"There aren't any markers," she said, as the boy joined her at the window.

"Markers for who? These folks either don't have anyone to come lay flowers or those who would come lay flowers have got more pressing calls on their coin than fancy rocks."

"That's sad," said Ella.

The boy shrugged.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, the sharpest iron will someday rust."

"I mean, the money's one thing, but to think that you could live your whole life, and then leave this world, and have no one but God care when you're gone? How do you end up with no people at all?"

"Different reasons. People don't notice beggars, or orphans, not when they come, and not when they go. I saw a gypsy buried here once, died on her way through town. And then there's criminals, every once in a while there'll be an execution, and then the courts send the bodies here."

"The courts? Including the royal courts you mean?"

"What other kind is there?"

"Were there any from the courts buried here recently? About three or four months ago?" Ella's heart was suddenly pounding in her chest.

The boy's face scrunched up as he thought.

"Yeah, there were actually. A whole big group, maybe half a dozen. It was still cold, they had to build a huge bonfire to get the ground soft enough to dig. There aren't usually executions in winter, but people said that lot had something to do with the Queen's death, was why they hurried it along, hadn't just waited till spring."

"Do you know where exactly? Could you show me?" She turned to the boy and reached out to grasp his shoulder, noticing that her hand was shaking.

"Yeah, sure," he said, glancing at her hand uncertainly. "I know the place. Are you all right? You've gone all white."

"Yes, I'm fine," she said. "Thank you. It's just- I think my father was buried here in that group."

* * *

Ella's eyes were closed as she knelt in the tall grass, but she felt the shadow fall across her face.

"What are you doing?" asked a voice above her head. Not the boy's voice, he had returned to the chapel after showing her the spot, but a new voice. It was also a boy's voice, but this one was older and more cultured, with crisp consonants and arching vowels.

Half a dozen answers sprang to mind. Thinking. Feeling. Remembering. Wishing.

"Not crying," she said, keeping her eyes closed.

"Do you want to cry?"

"I haven't decided."

"Do you know what this place is?"

"It's a graveyard."

"Yes. It's okay to cry in a graveyard. Or so I'm told."

She felt a puff of wind as the voice sat down next to her, stretching out to lie flat.

"Have you cried in a graveyard?" she asked.

"Yes. More than once."

"Do you spend much time in graveyards?"

"It's my latest bad habit."

"This is my first time in a graveyard."

"Ah. That explains it."

"Explains what?"

"What you're doing here. Why your eyes are still closed."

She opened her eyes, but stared straight ahead, ignoring the trousered legs next to her as he continued.

"The first time I was in a graveyard was when we buried my mother. They told me it was okay to cry there, at the ceremony, but I didn't. I couldn't. I tried, but I couldn't. I mean, I loved my mother, but her death was so sudden, and there was so much going on, I just didn't feel like any of it was real. I mean, I knew it was real, but I couldn't feel it, you know? Like how you know God's there, because you know he's everywhere, right, but you don't actually feel him there, even when you try really hard?"

"That's not why I'm not crying," said Ella.

"I'm not finished. So I didn't cry that first day. We buried her, and then we went home, and we were still in mourning officially, but life went on, little by little we did normal things again. And that's when I started crying, because then we were doing normal things again, but it wasn't quite right, because my mother wasn't there. But it was so close to normal that I would forget to notice until it snuck up on me all of a sudden and then I couldn't help it. My father didn't like that. Doesn't like that. So I started going to graveyards, because it's okay to cry in graveyards."

"You're not crying now."

"Oh I don't always, not just because I'm in a graveyard. It comes and goes, you know? And besides, I like the quiet. They're good places to sit and be quiet. And it's not like you can talk to anyone who's died there, but somehow in a graveyard they're a little bit closer, no matter the graveyard. And it feels better in a graveyard because just by being there you know you haven't forgotten them, and as long as you haven't forgotten them, then that makes it okay to do normal things again."

"You're half right," said Ella, squeezing her toes through loose soil. "I was listening to the quiet, and they do feel closer here. But there's no normal again, and I don't think there ever will be. Not for me."

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's still recent, of course. May I ask who it was?"

"My father. But it's not that it's recent. Or at least, not just that it's recent. Everything else has changed too. Mrs. Wollens left, and my stepmother, if I can still call her that, I was never quite sure what to make of her even while Papa was around, and now that he's gone, she's different, and not in a way that he'd like, I don't think. Everything's different."

"My father changed, after my mother died. I hardly see him at all anymore, and when I do he's always busy. Which is fair, I suppose, for what he does, but it was never so bad before."

"What does your father do?" asked Ella.

He laughed.

"My father's the king."

Ella gasped, and finally turned round to look at her companion properly. Sure enough, it was His Royal Highness Prince Christopher sprawled out on the grass next to her.

"Your Highness!" she exclaimed.

"Please," he said, sitting up, "we've gotten off to such a good start, don't ruin it now. Call me Topher."

"Topher then," she conceded. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you sooner."

"Don't be sorry, I enjoyed the reprieve. But now that you know who I am, I find myself at a disadvantage."

Ella felt a pang of fear. Did he know her father was among the convicted for his mother's death?

"I'm Ella," she said carefully.

"Just Ella?"

She sighed.

"Ella Tremaine."

She saw recognition flicker across his face.

"Daughter of the late Lord Tremaine?"

"Yes," she said, holding his gaze defiantly.

But after a moment, all he said was, "Shouldn't you be wearing shoes?"

"Perhaps, but it's a hot day, and I like feeling the grass. Shouldn't you have a guard or something?"

He grimaced.

"Perhaps, but it's a hot day, and I like getting away from everyone at the palace."

She laughed, the tension gone, and he smiled back.

"Thank you, Prince Topher," she said. "For sharing your expertise on graveyards."

"Just Topher," he said. "And you're welcome. Thank you for letting me impose on your solitude."

"It was my pleasure."

They rose from the grass, and he gave Ella a short bow before making his way out of the graveyard.

Once he was out of sight, her guide, the Duke of Buckingham, reappeared, carrying her shoes.

"Here," he said, holding them out to her. "I saw you talking with his Royal Highness. You weren't lying before, you are Miss Lady Tremaine."

"Thanks, but that was before," she said. "It's just Ella now. And keep the shoes. They're too small for me, and I'm sure Your Grace can put them to better use."

He grinned a grin from ear to ear.

"It's Gavrosh," he said. "Or Rosha, if you prefer, since we're friends now. If you can deign to befriend the common folk as well as princes, that is."

She laughed. "We're both of us common folk, Rosha. And I do hope you're my friend, because I'll need your help to find my way back to the town square."

He sprang to attention and saluted.

"At your service!"

* * *

They were all waiting for her when she arrived. Lady Tremaine stood by the carriage with her arms crossed, narrowed eyes scanning the square. Silas had awakened, and sat hunched over in the driver's seat, whip in hand, and Drizella and Anastasia sulked together in the back. Even the horses had been harnessed to the carriage. All that was missing was Ella.

"I'm sorry!" she cried as she ran across the square.

"You will be," said Lady Tremaine. "Where have you been? And where are your shoes?"

"I lost the shoes, I was trying to the find them," said Ella. "They were getting too small anyway though. They wouldn't have lasted much longer. I've been meaning to ask you for a new pair."

"Idiot child, did your shoes get up and walk away while you wore them? We feed you and clothe you, and this is how you care for your things? No," she said, grabbing Ella's arm and pulling her away from the carriage, "this is not how we do things. You lost your shoes; you are responsible for their replacement. And since you seem to take such enjoyment in vagrancy, you may walk home."

She swept past Ella and entered the carriage, closing the door after her. Ella thought to appeal to Silas, but he flicked his whip and trotted the horses away without a backward glance in her direction.

For a moment, she stood in disbelief.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she clenched her fists.

She bit her tongue to keep from screaming.

Then she closed her eyes and tenderly examined the wound in her heart, slowly bandaging each jagged edge. When she felt the bleeding begin to clot, she carefully let out the breath she was holding and relaxed her hands, still feeling for any leaks in the bandage.

It held.

She opened her eyes, wiped away her tears, and began the long walk home.


	9. Day Three-Hundred-Seventy

Ella rolled over sluggishly, wincing as the creak of the attic floorboards brought her dangerously close to wakefulness. It had been hard enough sleeping in a nest of blankets on the attic floor. Now, in the hottest room of the manor in the middle of a heat wave, she had traded the stifling heat of the blankets for the comparative coolness of bare floorboards, telling herself it was at least better than the hard kitchen flagstones.

But when she had spent those last winter weeks in the kitchen, dying embers in the fireplace had kept the cold at bay and her mind had been in a state of perpetual vacillation between grief and exhaustion, enabling her to slip effortlessly into unconsciousness each night. Now she had moved past shock into something containing all the superficial indicators of normalcy. This disturbed her, because what would Papa, who had every confidence in Ella becoming a proper young lady, or Mrs. Wollens, who tried to keep Ella from washing so much as a teacup, say if they knew how she spent her days now?

Thoughts of Papa and Mrs. Wollens were never far from Ella's mind, though to speak of either was now verboten.

Not that Ella spoke much to any of the other manor's inhabitants these days. Lady Tremaine discouraged her daughters from socializing with Ella, and Silas seemed to live inside his head, never saying more than an occasional 'Yes marm' to Lady Tremaine and providing only grunts to Ella's attempts at conversation. Lady Tremaine deigned to set Ella her tasks for the day each morning, then treated her as though she was invisible until she found fault with her work. Each night, Ella found herself turning over the day's criticisms in her mind, recalling every fault and cataloguing every misstep. Some nights she found herself dreaming through the day's work: occasionally correcting the mistakes of the day in her sleep, but more often repeating and exacerbating the errors.

At least when she dreamed she knew she slept. She shifted again, her hand rising heavily to flip her hair off of the back of her sticky neck.

Tonight she didn't dream. She closed her eyes and tried to ride her thoughts to sleep, but the heat in the attic and the discomfort of the hard floor kept half of her mind awake and anxious.

Eventually she heard the grandfather clock in the hall chime four, and she sat up with a sigh. Whether she had slept or not, her night was over.

* * *

The turret windows showed that it was still dark outside, but Ella had no need of light. Her day dress was folded neatly within reach of where she slept, and her hairbrush lay next to it. It took only a minute to change out of her nightgown, and she didn't need a mirror to brush and braid her hair into two symmetrical braids with practiced ease. A handkerchief over her hair tied at the back of her neck completed her simple toilette.

Still shoeless, her unshod feet were nearly silent as she descended the spiral staircase to the kitchen. Neither her stepfamily nor Silas stirred as she passed their bedrooms.

Bruno heard her coming though. He greeted her silently at the door to the kitchen. She caressed his head and let him lick her hand as she picked up a large basket and two empty milk pails.

"Out we go," she whispered, ushering him out the door ahead of her into the yard. He trotted ahead confidently, knowing the routine.

Their first stop was the stable.

"Good morning, Princess," Ella greeted the baleful dairy cow. "I hope you slept better than me last night." She continued talking to the cow as she fetched a stool and prepared her for milking. Bruno greeted Princess with a mutual sniff check, and then waited patiently at the door to the pen. When both milk pails were full, Ella opened the door to the pen and sent the cow off to pasture.

Their next stop was the henhouse. Here Bruno knew better than to follow Ella inside. When she emerged, she held the basket securely, careful not to disturb the eggs nestled into straw for safekeeping.

A quick trip back to the kitchen deposited one of the milk pails and several of the eggs, then Ella took the second milk pail in one hand and the rest of the eggs in the other and set off down the dark road, Bruno at her side.

* * *

Dawn had warmed from a wispy glimmer to a healthy glow by the time they reached the bakery. The front of the shop was dark, but Ella walked around to the back door, which was propped open by a loose brick.

"Hello?" she called. "Mr. Leavenson?"

A tall burly man appeared from the shadowy depths within, wiping his hands on his apron as he walked. A smear of white flour streaked across his otherwise red and sweaty forehead.

"You're late," he said.

Ella frowned.

"Too late?"

"I can still use them. I've adjusted my regular suppliers for you, you know. But don't let it happen again, or I'll have to rethink this arrangement."

"Yes sir."

"How many?"

"Two and a half dozen."

"Fine. Set them out and we'll take a look."

Ella followed him into the kitchen. Though morning mist cooled the world outside, the heat of four large ovens set Ella sweating as soon as she stepped inside. She pulled an egg rack down from the wall and arranged her eggs on it one by one. To her relief, none had cracked on the journey.

"All accounted for," she said.

"Their coloring is off. What have you been feeding your hens?"

"Their coloring is the same as it was yesterday, and all the days before that," said Ella calmly. "And besides, isn't it what's on the inside that counts?"

He snorted.

"For a blind man, maybe. For the rest of us, presentation accounts for nine-tenths of the truth." He picked one up, examining it closely against the light. "Fine. They'll do. And the milk?"

"Right here," said Ella, lifting the heavy pail to the table with both hands. "It's to the brim this time, like you asked."

"I should hope so," said Mr. Leavenson, opening the lid and sniffing at the contents inside. "Adequate," he proclaimed. "I'll get your payment."

He left while she poured the milk into a large vat. When he returned, he handed her two loaves of day old bread and a handful of coins.

"Thank you," said Ella, wrapping the loaves in her empty egg basket and pocketing the money. "See you tomorrow."

"I had better," he replied gruffly, walking her to the door.

* * *

Halfway home, the road brought them to a stone bridge crossing a small stream. Instead of crossing, they stepped off the path and carefully made their way down the rocky embankment. As they approached the underside of the bridge, they heard a sharp three note whistle.

Bruno barked.

"Hush Bruno, you'll wake the fish," said Ella clearly and loudly.

"The fish are already awake," said Rosha, coming out from the shadows under the bridge.

"Good morning," said Ella. "All of you are up? Isn't it a bit early for that?"

"The mayor's men were sniffing around more than usual last night, so we turned in early. Besides, better to be up while it's cool then sleep when it gets hot later this afternoon."

Ella frowned.

"What were the mayor's men sniffing around for?"

"Who knows," said Rosha offhandedly, kneeling down to greet Bruno. "Probably just looking to stomp around and rattle their swords. Jackie Dee nicked a penknife and three pocket hankies off one of them in the square."

"He's lucky he wasn't caught."

"Oh, he knows what he's doing, Jackie Dee does. He's got it down to an art."

Ella sighed.

"Of course he does. "

"Look, I know soldiers make you nervous, but relax. We're all fine."

"Just be careful. And if any of you gets in trouble, know that I'll do anything I can to help."

"Oh come off it, you may have a roof over your head, but from what I've seen, you're just as alone an orphan as any of us."

"I'm not an orphan, I have a family. But that reminds me, here's today's for yours." She took out one of the loaves in her basket and handed it to him.

"So you say. You know you're welcome here whenever you need." His tone was casual, but he watched her closely with an earnest gaze.

"Don't," said Ella quickly, breaking his gaze and turning away. "Look, you've got the bread, I should really be going. They'll be expecting me back. Same time tomorrow?"

"Right," he said, her response to his offer not entirely unexpected. Since the first day at the graveyard, she'd told him plenty of stories about her father, but she always avoided talking about her stepfamily. "Much obliged, as always."

"Stay safe," she said, whistling Bruno back to her side.

"You too," he said, watching her climb back up to the road.

* * *

The morning mist had disappeared by the time Ella reached the manor gates. She wiped a thin layer of sweat from her forehead as she called a hello to Silas, weeding the flowerbeds along the front path, and returned his grunt with a cheery wave. After filling her milk pail with water from the well out back, she reentered the kitchen.

Sighing, she saw that Silas had made his morning coffee in the teakettle again. The fine black grounds, still damp, clung to the sides of the kettle like chimney soot. She rinsed it clean quickly, hoping the smell wouldn't transfer into that morning's tea.

Her stomach rumbled as she set out clean water for Bruno and the chickens. The baker's loaf waited in the basket, but she pushed it from her mind.

She relit the stove and set the kettle, then filled a pot to boil the eggs, grimacing as she heard floorboards creak upstairs. Anastasia had a habit of waking early, and couldn't keep herself occupied for long. Without Drizella in the same room to draw her attention, she would prowl the upstairs corridor trying to decide whom of her family a premature waking would anger less.

Today, it seemed, was Ella's turn.

"Where's the chocolate?" she asked, standing on the bottom step to the kitchen.

Ella jumped.

"Anastasia! I didn't hear you come down."

"I woke up. And Drizella said if I woke her up again she would tell Mother on me, and Mother said if either of us woke her up she'd give us double lessons and no dessert. So I'm here for an advance on dessert, just in case."

"I don't have any dessert down here. You and Drizella finished all of yesterday's tarts." Ella felt it would be petty to add that she had doubled the recipe in futile hopes of leftovers.

"You have chocolate though, there's always chocolate."

"It's on the top shelf, by the almonds."

Anastasia went to the pantry and stretched onto her tiptoes.

"I see it, but I can't reach."

"Use a chair," said Ella, checking the eggs.

"The chairs are heavy, and besides, I might fall. Mother says I have a delicate sense of balance. Can't you get it for me?"

"I might fall too," said Ella, but without conviction. She stood on chairs all the time reaching for things in this kitchen. She dragged a chair over to the pantry and fetched down the large chunk of chocolate, handing it to Anastasia before jumping down lightly.

"Knives and a hammer are in that drawer," she said, as the kettle started to whistle.

"I'm not allowed to use knives, they're dangerous," said Anastasia, hands on her hips.

Ella took the kettle off the stove, searching for a hot pad.

"Knives aren't dangerous, not as long as you aren't doing something stupid."

"I'm not stupid!"

"I didn't say you were!" Ella found the hot pad and set down the kettle. "Get a knife and the hammer and take it to the table, I'll help you cut it once I get the tea steeping." Ella climbed back on the chair to bring down the tin of tea.

"Your dog is stupid," said Anastasia. "He keeps whining and scratching at the door."

Ella realized she was right. Usually she heard Bruno. Today her attention was already divided.

"Could you let him in please?" she asked.

"No way," said Anastasia, seating herself at the worktable. "I don't want cooties. You should have learned your lesson by now."

"He doesn't have fleas anymore," said Ella. "He's been clean ever since he's been here." She opened the back door for Bruno herself. He sniffed at her knees, and then noticed Anastasia, making a beeline for her.

Anastasia scrambled up to stand on her chair, brandishing the knife in front of her.

"No!" she and Ella shouted at the same time.

Ella lunged forward, throwing herself onto Bruno before he could rise up on his hind legs to investigate Anastasia.

"Put down the knife!" said Ella, the blade uncomfortably close to her face. Bruno squirmed beneath her, barking, confused.

"He was going to eat me!" said Anastasia, knife still in hand. "He's a monster!"

Ella turned her attention to Bruno, murmuring softly in his ear. When he stilled, she shifted her weight, letting him up, but staying between him and Anastasia with an arm around him. Her breathing slowed, but her heart still raced. She led him outside, and sat with him on the back step, trying to reassure him.

"You're safe," she murmured. "That was scary, but you're safe."

* * *

"Ella," said a voice above her head. "Come inside."

Ella gave Bruno one last scratch before moving his head off her legs and standing up. Through the open top half of the door, she saw her stepmother in her dressing gown, glaring in the shadows with arms crossed, and Anastasia behind her, sitting on the chair with the knife finally at rest on the table. Ella stepped through the doorway, and latched it carefully behind her back.

"What happened?" asked Lady Tremaine.

"When?" asked Ella.

Her question earned her a slap across the cheek.

"I am in no mood for impertinence. What happened just now, here? I am awakened by an unholy racket, shouting and barking, and I come down to find my youngest daughter in tears. What happened?"

"Anastasia attacked Bruno with a knife, and I pulled him away."

"Liar!" shouted Anastasia. "He attacked me, I was defending myself!"

"He was just saying hello! He's not used to you being down here, of course he was curious!"

"Silence," said Lady Tremaine. "Why did you have a knife, Anastasia? You know they're dangerous."

"I wasn't going to use it," said Anastasia. "Ella told me to get it so she could cut the chocolate for me."

"You shouldn't have gone near it," said Lady Tremaine. "Ella can fetch her own knives." She ended with a pointed glare at Ella.

"Yes Madam," said Ella.

"You will restrain your dog by whatever means necessary to keep my daughters safe," said Lady Tremaine. "I'll have Silas find you a rope."

"He wasn't-" Ella stopped short at the look in her stepmother's eyes. "Yes Madam."

"If anything like this ever happens again, I will drown the mutt myself, understood?"

"Yes Madam." Ella's throat constricted, and it came out a whisper.

Behind her stepmother, the lid on the egg pot rattled, about to boil over. Ella glanced at Lady Tremaine, who gave an irritated nod towards the stove. Ella scrambled over and took the eggs off the heat just as bubbles began to spill over the side.

"What was that?" asked her stepmother sharply from behind.

Ella froze, genuinely confused.

"What was what?"

"Something jingled. Empty your pockets."

Suddenly Ella remembered the baker's coins still in her apron. Slowly, she put down the pot and reached into her pocket, drawing out the money for Lady Tremaine's inspection.

Her stepmother took the money from her, counting it up.

"Did you steal this from me or someone else?"

"I didn't steal it. I earned it."

"Preposterous. You don't earn money."

"I did. I sold eggs to the baker in town. I need the money for shoes this winter."

Her stepmother regarded her thoughtfully.

"The eggs were not yours to sell. They belong to the estate, under my care."

"We were just throwing them out, we can't use three dozen eggs every day."

"Was this all you got for three dozen eggs?" asked Lady Tremaine skeptically.

"It was two and a half dozen, and a pail of milk. And I also got a loaf of bread for it all. It's in the basket." Despite her stepmother's milder-than-expected reaction, Ella didn't think she'd appreciate Ella's charity to the children under the bridge.

Lady Tremaine lifted up the corner of the basket cloth to reveal the loaf inside.

"Very well," she said at last. "I will allow this to continue. But you will give me three-fourths of the money you collect each day."

"Three-fourths!"

"Do not complain. That means an equal share for you and me and my daughters, which is exceptionally generous considering I have every right not to give you any of it."

"Yes Madam." Ella tried to calculate how long it would take her to save up enough for shoes at a quarter of the rate.

"I will keep all of this today. Consider it a penalty and back pay for your deceit thus far." Lady Tremaine slipped the coins into her own dressing gown pocket.

"Yes Madam."

"Now finish up here. I expect breakfast upstairs in ten minutes. Come along, Anastasia."

"Yes Madam."

"And see that the mutt is restrained by the time we finish," she called over her shoulder as they ascended the stairs.

"Yes Madam," Ella whispered, angrily wiping away a single tear.

 **AN: Bonus points to anyone who spotted the Dickens reference.**

 **And as always, if you liked it, leave a review telling me what you liked!**


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